


Pen Pals

by beb303



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2018-08-23 02:42:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 58,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8310829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beb303/pseuds/beb303
Summary: College AU. Stiles and Lydia meet the first day of school and then, unbeknownst to them, get assigned to each other as anonymous pen pals. Similar events that happen in Beacon Hills happen on campus as their connection forms both in person and online. Inspired by You've Got Mail and A Cinderella Story.





	1. Chapter 1

There always seems to be one moment in life when things change; something happens to create a “before” and an “after.” One minute everything’s the same, the next, life as you know it has been altered forever.

For Stiles Stilinski, that moment was August 31st, a Monday, 10:32 in the morning, the first day of college. That was the moment he met Lydia Martin.

“Hey, could you help me figure out-“ The red head- actually, strawberry blond- walked by as if he didn’t exist. Stiles was determined, though. It was his first day of college, and he wasn’t going to start it like this. He jogged a few steps to catch up to her. “You looked like you were gonna ignore me-”

“What does that mean?” the girl said without turning to look at him. She was searching through her purse for something that clearly deserved more attention.

“Well, I mean… look at you, you know? You’re like, well, perfect. And I’m… well, not.”

She abruptly stopped walking as she pulled out the buried treasure she had been scouring her purse for: a mirror.

“Perfect?” she asked, admiring her own reflection. “That’s a nice start to college. Being ignored isn’t, so what can I help you figure out?” She snapped her mirror shut and her green eyes bore into his with the confidence of a girl who had been called perfect thousands of times throughout her life.

Stiles stared at her for a moment longer in admiration before snapping out of it and fumbling through the way-too-many crumbled papers he had in his hands. “I’m looking for the library. You’d think it would be located in the main building, right? Or like, the next biggest one. It’s gotta be the most important place on a college campus. But when I walked into the front office, they all looked at me like I-“

The girl put up her hand and for some reason, it worked. Stiles stopped talking mid-sentence.

“Listen, for future reference, the library isn’t really where girls like me are typically found. But it just so happens, I’m skilled in the ancient art of reading campus directories,” she paused to roll her eyes at him, “And I’m heading that way anyway, so… follow me, I guess.”

He did as he was told and walked beside her down the sidewalk. For what seemed like an eternity, the only sound between them was her high heels on the pavement.

“So, by the way, I’m Stiles.”

“Stiles? What the hell is a Stiles? I mean, is it short for something?”

“Yeah, it’s just a nickname I’ve always had. It kinda followed me throughout school, and my best friend goes here too so I’m not even gonna try to start over now.”

He looked over at her, but she seemed much more interested in examining her fingernail polish.

“You talk a lot, Stiles. I’m Lydia Martin.” She smiled at him as she stopped walking. “And that, over there by the big tree, is the library.”

“Oh, you’re not coming in with me?” he asked, and immediately hated himself for how disappointed he sounded.

“Like I said, I don’t do libraries. And I have to go meet my boyfriend. Bye, Stiles.”

And just like that, with a flip of her hair, she was gone, leaving Stiles all alone to think about how the most beautiful girl he’d ever met had already broken his heart just a little bit.

 

 

“Scotty, I am in love,” Stiles declared as he swung open their dorm room dramatically. 

Scott laughed and continued unpacking. “Dude, classes started like 5 hours ago. Who the hell did you meet?”

Stiles was over-the-top about most things, he’d admit. If something bad happened, the world ended. If something good happened, he’d start planning the parade. But that wasn’t the case with girls. Sure, he’d liked them in the past. There was Heather, his friend since before he could even walk, whom he dated for four passionate months in eighth grade. Then in high school a girl named Cora would make out with him in their gym teacher’s office throughout all of sophomore year. So, yeah, Stiles was no stranger to girls. But that was because he hadn’t met his soul mate yet. Until today, at least.

He brought himself back to answer Scott’s question. “Strawberry-blonde hair, green eyes, five-foot-three. Today I met Lydia Martin.”

“Lydia? This girl I met is friends with a Lydia. It’s not that common of a name, right? I wonder if it’s the same one.”

Stiles threw his bag and plopped down on his bed. “If there is a God out there, and He loves me, it will be the same one. Dude, she walked me to the library. She’s perfect. Well, except for her boyfriend.”

Scott sighed. “Boyfriend?”

“A small bump in the road. It’s nothing. The one semester plan for making her fall in love with me may have to stretch to a full year, but the plan is definitely still in motion.”

“Stiles, slow down. You don’t know anything about this girl. And she has a boyfriend. You’re gonna meet hundreds of other girls here. You can’t get hung up on the first pretty girl who shows you attention.”

Stiles shrugged and changed the subject to appease his friend. But as he listened to Scott recap his first day of class, Stiles’ mind kept flashing back to the girl who could have brushed him off but instead helped him, the girl who didn’t want him to feel ignored. He also thought about the girl who flipped her hair and turned her heels and pretended like she hadn’t just walked some weird kid to the library. He knew which girl he liked better, and he knew she was in there somewhere.

 

 

Stiles walked into his night class with the enthusiasm of everyone else walking into their night class. His hyper tendencies helped him out during his morning classes, but his energy ran out as soon as the sun went down. He picked a seat in the back and zoned out as Professor Deaton introduced himself and went over the syllabus for nearly twenty minutes.

“Now, if I haven’t lost you all yet, I’m sure you’re interested in hearing the topic students always perk up for: extra credit.”

Accordingly, Stiles sat up to pay attention.

Professor Deaton paced the front row. “As this is a communications class, I’m interested in seeing the way you all, well, communicate with each other. In this class we’ll cover the importance of nonverbal communication, reading other people’s emotions, how face-to-face interaction is beneficial, but what about what the book doesn’t cover? What about how we speak to someone we can’t see? Can a bond be formed? Can it be sensitive and passionate if we don’t know what the other person’s face looks like? How powerful can our words be?

"The extra credit assignment will last all semester. I teach two other classes, and those who sign up will be randomly assigned to another student in this course. It could be someone in this room, or it could be someone from my morning classes. All that will happen is you will receive a school email address, which you all know is just some letters and numbers that are really only significant to the user. It doesn’t give much away. Your job is to talk to this person everyday of the semester, or as often as you can, and then write a paper on what you learned. The rules are, you can’t share personal information or meet in person. Interested?” 

Stiles certainly was. Extra credit just for emailing someone a few times a week? Easy enough.

“The act of merely speaking to another human being without worrying how you look or judging them on their clothes or even their name… There’s something very personal about that,” Professor Deaton continued as he handed out a sign up sheet to be passed around. “Imagine only knowing a classmate’s opinions and ideas, sense of humor, fears. I challenge you to form an emotional connection. Make a friend, make an enemy, who knows? It depends on who I randomly assign you to.”

 

 

That night, Stiles sat at his computer and tried to think of the perfect introduction. You only get one chance to make a first impression, and unlike in person, Stiles could maybe actually come off cool in text. He wouldn’t stutter or ramble. He flashed back to how embarrassing he had been with that Lydia Martin the day before, and knew he could be better this time to whoever he got assigned to. Just as he started typing, however, his inbox flashed with a new message.

 

LRM8749: Hey, it looks like we got assigned to each other for that extra credit thing. I’m really hoping we can find some common ground and maybe even become friends. Writing the paper on this experience will be a lot easier if this is actually fun.

MZS3361: Hi, it’s nice to meet you… well, not really meet you since I know absolutely nothing about you except that maybe those are your initials?

LRM8749: Nope, my middle initial was too common, I guess, so they gave me a random one. Could we maybe share some vague info? Right now I’m picturing that I’m talking to Professor Deaton.

MZS8749: Well we don’t want that. A few basics then: male, favorite season is spring, I think dogs are better than cats.

LRM8749: Female, favorite season is summer, team dogs as well. Does that help?

MZS3361: Yeah, actually. I still kind of feel like I’m a pen pal with a robot, though.

LRM8749: I know, maybe we could pick different usernames besides our school emails? Not our real names, nothing too personal. It might help form the connection.

YODAJEDI: Something like this?

LITTLEMERMAID: Yoda? I have to imagine I’m talking to a small, green old guy? Talk like this you will?

YODAJEDI: Princess picky you are. Think this through I did not.

SOLOJEDI: Better?

LITTLEMERMAID: Picturing Harrison Ford over Professor Deaton is much, much better.

SOLOJEDI: Good. By the way, as soon as you spoke like Yoda, our friendship was officially formed.


	2. Chapter 2

September 1st

 

Lydia Martin enjoyed learning. That wasn’t something she told anyone. No one knew she liked to read. No one knew her intricate study tactics or that she was taking two more extra classes than the recommended amount. All anyone knew about her was that she was cool and pretty. She had the best clothes, went to the best parties, and had the best football player for a boyfriend.

And yes, she’d heard all the older graduates giving their pep-speeches during orientation about how this was the chance for everyone to start completely over and that popularity didn’t matter in college. But Lydia knew that was just something losers said. If anyone on campus knew she was secretly a nerd she’d be so mortified she’d have to transfer.

This fact was usually easy to hide from her friends. They all signed up for classes that were typically jokes, like “intro to drawing” and a one-credit stress management course. This meant Lydia could stroll into classes like physics and European literature and not have to worry about seeing a familiar face. 

_Usually_.

Today, however, she walked into biology and immediately noticed the stunned expression of the boy she’d met yesterday. Steve, was it? Kyle? 

“Lydia, hi!” he said way too loudly as she took the seat in front of him. “It’s Stiles, remember? You walked me to the library yesterday?”

“Yes, I remember. I don’t have transient global amnesia.”

“What’s transformative glowing- ah, never mind. I wasn’t expecting to have any classes with you! Fate is a funny thing. I mean, not fate, like uh… I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant… you know, weird coincidence that the only person I’ve met here so far is in one of my classes. I mean, yesterday I didn’t really…”

He kept talking, but Lydia’s phone vibrated with a text from Jackson.

 

_Are you coming over before practice?_

_I already have a ton of homework, babe. I’ll get it done after class and see you tonight when you finish up._

_Seriously? It’s the first week of class. You can afford to not do homework one day._

_You’re right. I’ll see you before practice. Love you._

“…which was when Scott mentioned that he met this girl who had a friend named Lydia. So yeah, small world.”

Aggravated that she was now going to have to stay up late to get caught up on her homework or fall behind all together, Lydia turned to Stiles and didn’t bother to hide the fact that she hadn’t been listening. “Yeah, I didn't get any of what you just said. Is it worth repeating?”

Stiles sat back in his chair and started tapping his pen awkwardly. “No.” 

She turned around, and they didn’t speak for the rest of the class.

 

 

  

The next day at lunch, Lydia had barely even put her tray down on the table when Kira asked, “Do you know someone named Stiles?”

“No,” Lydia said as she took her utensils out of their plastic wrap. 

“Are you sure? I met this boy who mentioned that his friend met this girl-“

“People meet people everyday, Kira,” Lydia snapped a bit too harshly. But Kira had a habit of rambling on and forgetting to get to the point, and Lydia hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before because of course she couldn’t _not_ do her homework.

Kira laughed. “Right. Sorry. This boy Scott said his friend Stiles met someone named Lydia, and I assumed that meant you met his friend, but if you don’t remember meeting a Stiles…”

“Ugh, oh wait. Stiles. Yes, I did meet a Stiles. He was so weird. But tell me about this other boy,” Lydia winked as she poured light dressing on her salad.

Kira smiled and started unwrapping her own food. “So I was doing that thing I do where I try to read and walk at the same time and right as I turned a corner, BAM! I crashed right into him. It was right before classes were starting so I expected him to rush away like everyone else around us, but he stayed and helped me pick up everything I had dropped in the collision. Can you believe that? He’s _so_ sweet! So anyways, we got to talking, and he asked for my number!”

“Damn, Kira! Two days into college and you’ve got yourself a boyfriend,” she teased. 

Kira blushed. “Oh, stop. Speaking of boyfriends, though, where is Jackson?” 

“Weight room. It appears I’m capable of rearranging my schedule for him, but God forbid I ask him to meet me for lunch.”

She tried not to let her annoyance show in her tone, but Kira’s sympathetic smile told her that she hadn’t succeeded. Lydia was not interested in talking about how college hadn’t started off as well as she had dreamed it would, so she changed the subject 

“Enough about that, though. I want to hear more about _your_ boy. Have you been texting?” 

Lydia let Kira gush about Scott while she simultaneously tried to mentally rearrange her schedule so that should see Jackson after he was done with his weights but also before her evening class. It would be difficult, but Lydia was sure it could be done.

 

 

 

That night, Lydia sat at her computer, frustrated. School started barely 24 hours ago, and she was already pulling all-nighters to get her work done. Was this how college was going to be? Would Jackson always guilt her into choosing him over schoolwork? Would she have to sacrifice her sleep schedule to keep her boyfriend and maintain her grades? Or could she just start fresh tomorrow? She decided to pose a question to her pen pal.

 

LITTLEMERMAID: So we’re supposed to learn about each other’s thought processes, right? How we feel about stuff? So tell me, what is your general opinion on the first week of school? Not _your_ first week, but just the beginning of semesters, what do you think of them?

SOLOJEDI: I think the first week of school sets the routine for the rest of the semester. If you blow off assignments now, chances are you’ll keep doing that. If you start off being the same person you were in high school, you’re going to stay that way. 

LITTLEMERMAID: Hm. I disagree. I think you can change who you want to be in the middle of a semester. You don’t need a fresh start to make yourself better.

SOLOJEDI: Yeah, but in the middle of the semester you’re stressed and overwhelmed. You’re not gonna stop and be like, “hey, maybe now is a good time to have an identity crisis and completely redo my personality.”

LITTLEMERMAID: Okay that is so _not_ what I said. I only mean you’re just as capable of making adjustments to yourself in November as you are in September.

SOLOJEDI: But you’re not as likely to.

LITTLEMERMAID: What if something life changing happens? What if for someone’s entire life they were a liar and a cheater, and then one day they got caught plagiarizing a paper? You don’t think they’d start working hard and being honest the next day?

SOLOJEDI: Special circumstances.

LITTLEMERMAID: Are you this frustrating in person?

SOLOJEDI: Maybe in the middle of the semester I’ll decide to be less frustrating.

LITTLEMERMAID: But you’re not as likely to.

SOLOJEDI: LOL. Fair enough.


	3. Chapter 3

September 18th

 

SOLOJEDI: What are 3 things you like? Just off the top of your head. 

LITTLEMERMAID: Drawing, ice skating, The Notebook. You?

SOLOJEDI: Video games, my car, curly fries.

LITTLEMERMAID: Oh no. That just completely gave away who you are.

SOLOJEDI: What?!

LITTLEMERMAID: I’m kidding. Those are 3 of the most common interests boys have.

SOLOJEDI: Oh, like you’re the only girl on campus who likes The Notebook? Fine, how about this: I also enjoy playing chess.

LITTLEMERMAID: Now we’re getting somewhere! That’s unique.

SOLOJEDI: Yeah, I know it’s boring. But I like the focus it requires. For a little while, I get to just sit there, quietly, thinking about the next move. Usually my mind is racing a little bit. 

LITTLEMERMAID: No, I get it. That’s why I draw. I put my headphones in and just escape. Sometimes I even close my eyes and let my hand go wherever it wants to go. It’s like the whole world doesn’t exist; it’s just me in my little bubble. 

SOLOJEDI: Sometimes I just play against myself for that same reason. I’m so deep in thought; all the other stuff kind of just floats away.

LITTLEMERMAID: It’s like you read my mind.

 

The door burst open as soon as he got the message and he shut his laptop so fast that it was to be expected that Scott eyed him suspiciously. Subtly was never Stiles’ strong point. His best friend immediately started laughing at him.

“Okay, okay, I know what this looks like-“

“It looks like you were looking at porn.”

“Dude, I wasn’t!”

“Yeah? Then what were you doing?” he asked as he kicked his shoes off and lay on his bed.

“I don’t want to say. It’s… nerdy.” 

“Dude, I know you’re a member of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures. Can’t get much worse than that.”

He sighed. “Fine. I have a pen pal.”

Scott looks at Stiles like he just grew four extra heads.

“It’s for school!” 

His friend sat back and shrugged. “That's kind of a cool assignment..." Scott offered before adding, "I guess.” He wasn't into school, like, at all. It didn't take much for him to decide to skip, and Stiles knew from high school that he often got in trouble for being on his phone or falling asleep in class. But nonetheless, Scott always preferred to look on the bright side.

Stiles drummed his fingers on his laptop. “Well, kind of. It’s extra credit.”

Scott looked over at him and rolled his eyes. “So you’re doing voluntary school work right now?”

“Scott, I’m not cool enough to ride a motorcycle like you. Grades are all I have!”

Scott didn’t disagree. “So, what’s your pen pal like?”

“Opinionated and snarky.”

“That must be annoying, huh? Talking to someone all the time who always has something witty to say about every little-“

“Okay, yes, thank you, I get it,” Stiles interrupted, catching on that his friend was actually talking about how annoying Stiles could be with his unrivaled charisma and intellect. “And yeah, it’s a total nightmare,” he lied.

 

 

That weekend, Stiles grudgingly turned off his favorite horror movie and went to a school event. See, football wasn’t particularly his favorite sport. He felt a little socially awkward around people he didn’t know, such as a stadium full of new faces. But Scott had managed to get cheap bleacher seats in the general admission section, and he’d promised that Kira had happened to mention she was going to the game with Lydia Martin. 

Stiles had come around after that and decided a little school spirit never hurt anyone.

Before the game started, Scott and Kira texted about a meet up spot, and as the boys arrived, they found the two girls already waiting there, chatting. He would have been able to pick Lydia out a mile away, though. She was the only one there in a dress, leather jacket, and heels - none of which contained their school colors.

The foursome introduced themselves, and Stiles knew pretty quickly that he liked Kira. She was a little awkward and shy, but she smiled the whole time they spoke and she laughed at all of his jokes. That was good enough for him. Plus, she could barely keep her eyes off of Scott. Almost immediately, the two of them started giggling and talking quietly to only each other. Lydia pulled out her phone and sat down on a bench a few feet away. Stiles hesitated for a moment before approaching her.

“Hey, Lydia. Um, I sit behind you in biology.”

She finished typing something before she looked up at him. “I know.”

He swore he felt his heart skip a beat. “Oh, you do? It’s just, we don’t really get the chance to talk to each other in class a lot, you know? You’re always like, paying attention and answering questions, while-“ 

If looks could kill, Stiles’ heart would have stopped beating altogether. Lydia glared at him so intensely that he had to think back to see if he had accidentally insulted her somehow. He took a few steps so that he was closer to her and said in a quieter tone, “Uh, sorry?”

She looked around nervously as if to make sure no one had heard their conversation, and once she was satisfied to see that no one had, she went back to her phone.

“So… d-do you always come to these football games?”

“Yes,” she said, boredom evident in her tone. “I’m dating the quarterback.”

_Fantastic_ , he thought. Then he scoured his brain for anything he could possibly say to her that so that their conversation wouldn’t end, but then Lydia stood up abruptly.

“Ugh, what are they doing here?” 

Stiles followed her gaze to a group of guys in green matching jackets. They looked out of place and pissed off.

“Who are they?” 

“Only our school’s biggest rivalry. You don’t follow football much, do you?” Stiles shook his head. “Our sports teams _hate_ each other. It’s just weird that they’re here. We’re not even playing them tonight.”

They stood there together in a trance for a moment watching the group of boys who looked like they were up to no good until a whistle sounded from the field. 

“Oh, it’s starting!” She hurried over to grab Kira’s hand and skipped off to their seats behind the bench.

“Great! Bye, Lydia!” Stiles called sarcastically and turned to Scott to pretend he was stabbing himself in the chest. “Well that could not have possibly gone worse.”

Scott laughed and continued watching the girls disappear in the crowd. “So that’s Lydia, huh? She seems a little-“ 

“Icy? Disinterested? Too beautiful to even be breathing the same air as me? Yeah, I know how to pick them. How’d it go with Kira?”

They started walking to find their own seats on the bleachers. “You sure you want to know? Because, well, it went pretty great.”

“Tell me all about. I’ll live vicariously through you crazy kids.”

The two climbed until they reached the last row at the top of the bleachers. The game was packed, and Stiles realized football for this school must be what lacrosse was at his high school: everyone was interested, and the players were basically the celebrities of the school. Stiles should have figured that Lydia Martin would be dating the quarterback.

“So, yeah, we have a date next weekend, I guess. I mean, we already kind of had one, but I don’t think it counts. Her parents were there.”

“Dude, you already met her parents?”

“She left a book at the library! I had to return it, and she was home for the night, and she had an assignment due the next day. I had to!”

Stiles gave him a look that said he definitely did not _have_ to leave campus to drive to the girl’s house to return a textbook. But if Kira had planned out the exchange with him, Stiles knew that meant she had wanted to see him just as badly.

“So how was that?” he asked, continuing the conversation as the visiting team called their first time out. 

“It went awkward…ly. We had sushi.”

“But you hate sushi.” 

Scott rolled his eyes at Stiles. “I _know_. I accidentally poisoned myself with wasabi. It was a disaster.”

“Well if she wants to see you again on Friday it couldn’t have been _that_ bad,” Stiles pointed out. He didn’t have to look over to see that Scott was grinning like an idiot. 

“Yeah, well, after the sushi we snuck away and had some pizza. We both like Hawaiian. Can you believe that?”

“Mind-blowing.”

“She’s so cool, you know? Really sweet and funny and adorable-“

Stiles zoned out after that like he always did. He was good at zoning out, probably thanks to his Adderall. He could pay attention to two things at once. His teachers disagreed, but if he cared enough about the subject and where his thoughts were wandering, he could do it.

Take football, for example. He tried to play in 5th grade gym class once. There was no tackling, no pushing, no anything but catching, tagging and running. But Stiles thought it would be interesting if there were no tagging at all. What if there was no touching, and you had to use different objects to try to stop the other team from getting into the end zone?

He remembered his coach gave them instructions for some easy play, but when they went out into their little huddle, Stiles tried to persuade his teammates to make an obstacle course that blocked any touchdowns. He had been so excited, talking about piling up their helmets or maybe using the bench as a blockade.

To this day, Stiles still thought it was brilliant, and he often brought up to his dad how he had managed to create a new version of football – or perhaps an entirely new sport altogether – at the ripe age of 11 years old.

In the end, he got put on the bench and his coach gave him his ten millionth speech on focusing, being a team player, and following instructions. Actually, now that Stiles thought about it, it was shortly after that that he got put on Adderall.

He brought himself back to the present, where Scott was still talking about Kira.

“She’d make a good wedding date,” Stiles pointed out, wanting to politely stop his friend from listing Kira’s good qualities for the entire duration of the game.

He had been referring to the upcoming wedding between Stiles’ dad and Scott’s mom. They were both equally thrilled that their parents had finally gotten together and that they’d soon be officially brothers. However, they were also both equally worried they’d have to go to their own parents’ wedding without dates.

“Oh, come on. That’s not for like, 2 months. I don’t even know if she likes me, likes me.” Again, Stiles saw his friend’s stupid grin from the corner of his eye. 

They paused their conversation momentarily to watch sadly as the opposing team intercepted the ball and ran it in for a touchdown. Once the crowd calmed down and they retook their seats, Stiles nudged his friend.

“Trust me, I saw the way she was giggling at your lame jokes. Plus, a lot can happen in two months.”

 

 

The next morning, Stiles was woken up by Scott not-so-gently shaking him. 

“Stiles! Get up, man! Stiles!”

“What is it?” Stiles mumbled into his pillow, unable to lift his head.

“Something happened last night!”

“Yeah, I know. Our football team got their ass beat.” He rolled over and pulled his blankets over his head.

“No, after that. Kira just texted me.”

Stiles could barely form a coherent thought and had no idea what was happening, but that got his attention. He lifted his head up and looked at his friend with one eye closed, waiting for his vision to focus in the bright room.

“Lydia was in a car accident.”


	4. Chapter 4

September 24th

Pain was the first thing Lydia felt that morning. She hadn’t even opened her eyes yet but she felt a throbbing in her head that seemed to be getting worse as the sleep wore off. It took her a few moments to remember what the pain was from, and then it all came flooding back to her.

Saturday night. The accident. Jackson. The speeding car. The crash.

She’d been at the hospital for two days. Her mom had come. She brought Lydia back to her dorm last night, and then came back later with the pain medication the doctor had prescribed Lydia. She didn’t want to leave her here, but she had work and Lydia had insisted that she didn’t want to be babysat anyway. She came back yesterday to check on her, but Lydia put on a brave face and downplayed her pain. She’d taken a pill as soon as her mom left, though. And today it wasn’t much better. She took 2 pills and hoped the throbbing in her head would be dulled enough that she could manage to open her eyes and sit up.

An hour later, Kira returned from class. She’d checked in on Lydia religiously whenever her mom wasn’t there. Lydia suspected the two had exchanged numbers so that Kira could provide updates. Maybe it was just the pain medication, but Lydia was starting to see how thoughtful that was of her friend.

Lydia rolled over and out of the corner of her eye her own pretty nail polish caught her attention. She examined her nails closely. They were such a pretty shade. They were so pretty. She loved her nails! And the back of her hand was fascinating, too. God, why had she never noticed how pretty her hands were? She should look at them all the time.

“Lydia?” Kira asked. She was lingering by the door. She knocked on it a few times to try to get Lydia’s attention. “Stiles is here to see you.” Then she turned to Stiles and added quietly, “She took a little something for the pain.” Lydia heard her, though. However she was too busy thinking about a career in hand modeling to care.

“Stiles?” Lydia asked finally. Her hair blew as she spoke, which was also fascinating to her. She heard the door shut and was distracted from her pretty hands and her hair blowing in the wind. The Stiles boy stood in the middle of her dorm. She rolled over and tapped her fingers. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just making sure you were okay,” he said. He was so awkward and nice, Lydia decided. But why wouldn’t she be okay? She felt great. “Why?” She almost got distracted by her pretty hands again, but instead she patted the bed so that he’d sit down with her and maybe stop being so awkward.

“I was worried about you. How are you feeling?”

She sat up and touched his arm. He was so tall and skinny, but his arm felt wonderful. She wondered if the tall, nice, awkward boy worked out. He probably didn’t. Maybe his arm didn’t feel wonderful. Maybe it was just her that felt wonderful enough for the both of them. “I feel… fantastic.”

Stiles smiled at that, but then he looked behind her and reached for something. Her pain pills. They made her feel great.

“Oh,” he said, like he was realizing that she wasn’t in any pain at all. He studied the bottle and then smirked at her. “I bet you can't say, "I saw Suzy sittin' in a shoeshine shop" 10 times fast.”

Lydia tried to sit up confidently and roll her eyes at his silly request, but she wasn’t sure if it had worked. “I saw shuzy… I shaw… I saw…”

And then she didn’t feel so great. Her mind flashed back to the car on Saturday night. She saw Jackson trying to slam on the breaks fast enough. She saw the taillights in the mirror. She felt the jolt. “Something,” she whispered.

Stiles leaned forward. “What did you see? Are you talking about the car accident? Because I have some thoughts on that. I tend to kind of read into things too much; it’s like, my first instinct to…”

He kept talking but she got bored and closed her eyes.

“Hey, no, wait! Come back,” he gently tapped her on the shoulder. She giggled because she hadn’t gone anywhere. She opened her eyes and found him ducking down to look at her carefully. “Sorry, sometimes I ramble. But look, you didn’t see Jackson texting or speeding or something, right? I was kind of worried because he was so pissed off after we lost the game. He seemed a little distracted-”

“I saw nothing.”

“Is that what he told you?” Stiles asked. He was like a detective or a cop or a policeman or something.

“I saw nothing!” she told him again.

He pulled out his phone and hit some buttons. “What is this, what am I doing?” he asked, waving his phone in front of her.

“Nothing.”

He sighed, and Lydia’s head suddenly felt so heavy. She just needed to collapse onto his lap for a second, and then she’d feel great again.

“You’re so drunk,” she heard him say as she closed her eyes. Then she felt him gently lift her and move her back onto her pillow. When she opened her eyes, he was still there standing in her dorm. He was leaving papers on her desk.

“This is just some stuff you missed in class today. I know you don’t care but…,” he shrugged. Lydia felt her eyes closing again. “Well, I’m gonna go. I’ll let you get some rest, maybe sleep off your high.”

He was already out the door when Lydia snapped out of it and decided she didn’t want to be alone. “Nooooo,” she whined. “Stay!”

Almost immediately, Stiles popped his head back in. “Wha- Me?”

She nodded and smiled as she pat the bed hoping he’d come sit with her again. He was so nice.

“Stay,” she told him once he sat down. She touched his arm again and then put her hands on his cheeks. She liked when he was nice to her. Boyfriends should always be nice. “Please… Jackson…”

She thought she heard Stiles say something but she was already back on her pillow. She didn’t remember lying down, but before she could think too much about it, she drifted off to sleep.

Lydia woke up hours later, judging by the fact that it was dark outside. She saw Kira asleep in her bed and searched for her phone to check the time. It was eleven.

She sat up in bed and tried to remember where the day had gone. When she saw her pill bottle on her nightstand, it came back to her. She had woken up late and took double the recommended dosage of her medication.

“Maybe sleep off your high.” Those words echoed in her head suddenly. It was Stiles. He was here. She made him sit on her bed. She’d touched his face! She had to talk to him in class on Thursday. She also had to never again take more than one pill a day.

She had to admit, though, the pain in her head was definitely easing up. The doctors had told her she needed lots of sleep. Still, she put the bottle into her dresser and knew she’d be able to fall back to sleep without any help tonight.

She lay back down and decided to text Jackson. She hadn’t spoken to him since she left the hospital. They were making him stay another night for observation. He’d been so mad when she stopped by his room. It was like he resented her for getting to leave.

_How are you?_

_Sore. This blows. I’m not gonna be able to practice because of this. I’ll probably be on the bench for at least a week._

Then, as if it was an after thought, his next message came through.

_How about you?_

_I’m okay._

She almost put her phone away then, but she saw she had an email. It was from her pen pal.

SOLOJEDI: How is your week going?

LITTLEMERMAID: Awful, if I’m being honest. How is yours?

SOLOJEDI: Crappy. Can I ask why your week sucks, or is that too personal?

LITTLEMERMAID: Too personal. You?

SOLOJEDI: Yeah, too personal. What if we’re just really vague?

LITTLEMERMAID: Okay… someone important is mad at me for something I didn’t do, something that wasn’t my fault. And I just can’t help feeling like…. I don’t know, like no matter what I do, I’m always going to come up short in this person’s eyes. You?

SOLOJEDI: Someone I care about is in a bad situation. This person deserves better. But it’s out of my control. I’m not even, like, remotely involved. And no one cares what I have to say on the matter. So all I can do is mind my own business, I guess.

LITTLEMERMAID: It really sucks not being in control of a situation.

SOLOJEDI: Yeah, it does. Things are looking up though. I was thinking of seeing what the big deal is with The Notebook. It’s on Netflix.

LITTLEMERMAID: Your week is about to get a lot better, my friend. Message me when you finish.

She put her phone back on her nightstand and tried to fall asleep. Truthfully, she was very tired. She knew after a full night’s sleep, she’d finally start to feel better, but her mind was racing.

Why did Jackson seem so annoyed with her? _She_ wasn’t the one who had been pissed off about a stupid football game and going way too much over the speed limit. So then, why did she feel guilty? He had this way of making things seem like her fault. But she didn’t want him to think it was his fault either. Accidents happen. Everyone would be fine.

In one quick movement, Lydia reached under her bed and pulled out her laptop. Sure enough, her favorite movie had just been added to Netflix. She knew after watching it, she’d feel better and be able to sleep. Either that, or she’d be so exhausted that she would physically be unable to let her worries keep her up.

She hit “play” and sought comfort in the fact that she wasn’t really alone. Somewhere on campus, her friend was watching the movie with her.


	5. Chapter 5

September 29th

 

Stiles sat in his usual seat drumming his pen on his pants to the beat of a song that was stuck in his head. He sensed that everyone around him was getting annoyed, but he didn’t much care. 

That is, until Lydia walked in, and he dropped his pen altogether. He scrambled to grab it as he heard her high heels approaching. When he sat back up in his seat, she was turned around facing him. That in itself was odd, as Lydia usually walked into class with her head down and avoided eye contact with everyone, unless he started up a conversation with her. He supposed that the only one she ever willingly spoke to was the professor.

“Stiles,” she said as means of a greeting.

He nodded his head at her to create the illusion that he was calm, cool, and collected.

“About the other day…”

He knew he shouldn’t have gone. She had boundaries, and he’d crossed a line. He almost didn’t go, almost just sent her a nice text like Scott had done. But then they’d gotten an assignment in class on Tuesday, and he knew, whether she wanted to admit it or not, that she cared about her grades. So he decided to bring her some stuff; he didn’t know she’d be high on drugs and make him sit on her freaking bed!

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out.

“I’m sorry,” Lydia said quickly at the exact same moment.

“What?”

“What are you sorry for?” Lydia asked, equally as confused as he was, judging by her tone.

Stiles leaned forward so that no one else would hear, even though the room was abuzz with people in their own conversations. “Well… I mean, I probably shouldn’t have come, right? I guess I kind of overstepped.”

Either Stiles’ mind was playing tricks on him, or Lydia looked disappointed. “I thought it was nice.”

“You did?”

“Don’t make it a thing,” she said, the disappointment gone and her usual mask retaking its place.

If it was anyone else, Stiles might have rolled his eyes. “Why did you say that you were sorry?” 

“I didn’t.”

“Lydia.”

“Fine,” she sighed as she played with the edges of a paper on his desk. “I had been feeling a little bit… embarrassed… for how incredibly high on pain killers I was.”

“You were hurt from a car accident…” Stiles reminded her, confused.

“You… you didn’t think I was being annoying?”

He hesitated for a moment waiting to see if she was joking. When he realized she wasn’t, he quickly answered, “No.” When Lydia seemed to relax a bit, he added, “Lydia Martin, you might be the strangest girl I’ve ever met.”

She thought his comment over for a moment, and Stiles wondered if he shouldn’t have said it. Then, she flashed him a perfect smile of approval and turned back in her seat, leaving him to wonder how in the hell he was ever going to figure her out.

An hour later, they were dismissed from class, and Lydia, as usual, was the first one out the door. Stiles ran after her and reached for her arm, but she jerked it away and kept walking.

“Right, sorry,” he said, struggling to keep up with her. “I was just wondering how you were allowed to come back to class so quickly. Shouldn’t you be resting? Kira said you banged your head pretty bad, so too much stimulation in class-”

“What are you, my doctor?” Lydia snapped.

“Oh, I could never be a doctor. If I see even a drop of blood, I pass out; but in, like, a masculine way. Like, probably the way Iron Man or Lebron James would faint.”

“That was sarcasm.”

Stiles turned to answer, but was cut off when someone knocked into him, _hard_. He clutched his arm and looked around to see who it was, and his eyes landed on a boy who was now standing between him and Lydia.

“Jackson, hey!” she said excitedly as she wrapped her arms around his waste. The boy kissed her quickly, and then turned to stare at Stiles. “Stiles, this is my boyfriend Jackson. Jackson, this is Stiles.”

“Oh yeah, we actually met before: when you nearly dislocated my arm,” he said, half-joking, half-serious.

“I didn’t see you there,” Jackson said. Stiles assumed that that was the most of an apology he was going to get. Jackson turned back to Lydia. “Why didn’t you answer my text?”

Lydia looked worried as she pulled out her phone. “Sorry, I keep it on silent in class.”

Jackson sighed. “God, you’re so irritating. No one in college cares if your phone vibrates in class.”

“Actually, our professor told us that if he hears a phone go off, he’ll take points off of our final grade, so…” Stiles offered, trying to join the conversation. 

Jackson glared at Stiles so hard that Stiles just immediately shut his mouth.

“Anyway, I was reminding you that I need my cleats. I left them in your dorm room.”

Lydia rubbed her head. “Right, sorry. Let me just stop by there real quick and grab them. I’ll meet you on the field before practice starts.” 

Stiles hated this. It would have been easier to move on from the mess his heart had gotten him in if Lydia’s boyfriend was a great guy. If he knew she was with someone nice, who made her laugh, who looked out for her, he could let it go. He’d know she was okay. But watching as she flinched when he raised his voice and apologized over and over for something that wasn’t her fault was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. It was like he was invisible, like he was screaming and no one could hear him.

He wondered if he was being dramatic, then decided he wasn’t.

When he snapped out of it, he sensed that his presence was no longer needed, wanted or welcomed, so he mumbled a goodbye to them and excused himself.

A few minutes later, when he was outside and on his way back to his dorm, he heard a crash a few hundred feet behind him. When he turned to look, he saw Jackson storming off in the opposite direction, a knocked over trashcan rolling behind him.

 

Stiles walked back to his dorm room overanalyzing Jackson and the way he spoke and how he had gotten so pissed at Lydia that he kicked an innocent trashcan.

“It’s none of my business. It’s none of my business. It’s none of my business,” he said aloud to himself as he opened the door to his room. He wasn’t surprised to find Kira sitting at Scott’s desk as he lay in his bed. They both had books open, but were laughing about something off subject as Stiles dropped some papers from class on his desk and collapsed into his chair.

“What is it, National Third Wheel Day?”

“Are you okay?” Scott asked, his concern so sincere that it simultaneously made Stiles feel both better and worse.

“Yeah, no, I’m terrific. I just had the pleasure of meeting Jackson Whittemore.”

Scott looked like he was going to question that, but then he changed his mind as he focused on the previous issue. “Were you just talking to yourself out there in the hallway?” 

“No, of course not,” Stiles said. “If I was, however, it would be just one more thing I have in common with Albert Einstein. Him and many other geniuses-“

“Not this again,” Scott said, stopping his rant before it could begin.

Kira put her hand up to stop them both from getting off subject. “How is Jackson?” 

Stiles thought about it. “I would describe Jackson as being… perfect looking and angry.”

“Sounds like your typical college football player,” Scott said as he highlighted something in his textbook. 

Kira nodded. “Was he in a bad mood?”

“I guess so. He was being really hard on Lydia for forgetting something, even though they were both in a freaking _car accident_ this week. Does he get like that a lot?”

Kira laughed. “They fight a lot. But she’s crazy about him. And he has a weird way of showing it, but Jackson would do anything for Lydia.”

“Still sounds like he’s an ass,” Scott said, sitting up to fully join the conversation. “So don’t sweat it. Guys like that never get the girl in the end.”

Kira shrugged and nodded in agreement.

“What, you guys are rooting for me now?”

“You’re my best friend. I’m always rooting for you. Even when you have an unrequited crush on a girl who is already in a relationship.” 

Kira rolled her eyes and turned back to Stiles. “Look, Lydia is _my_ best friend. I just want her to be happy. And right now she’s happy with Jackson. Right now. That’s all I’m saying. Now, I’m not getting any studying accomplished here so I’m going back to my dorm.”

“I’ll walk you,” Scott offered, jumping out of his bed. He followed Kira out of the room, and as he walked by Stiles, he whispered, “I’ll scope out your competition while I’m there.”

Stiles smiled sarcastically at his friend as he closed the door.

He wasn’t completely oblivious. He knew he didn’t stand a chance with Lydia. He realized he only just met her, and that she had a boyfriend. He wasn’t completely insane. But he was just kind of fascinated by this beautiful girl who paid him the slightest bit of attention sometimes. To the world, she probably seemed like some evil Barbie who only cared about clothes and popularity. But whenever she looked at him, Stiles knew she could only be, like, 50% evil. Maybe 60. But no more than 40 on a good day.

He didn’t want to think about it anymore. He wanted to talk about anything else to someone completely uninvolved. Then he remembered that he was actually able to do that. He opened up his laptop and pulled up his email account.

SOLOJEDI: I finished The Notebook. What an emotional rollercoaster.

LITTLEMERMAID: A _good_ emotional rollercoaster?

SOLOJEDI: It was… different. I’m usually more of a happily-ever-after kind of guy. 

LITTLEMERMAID: They did get their happily ever after! They lived a great, long life together. Their love never faltered. Even in their final moments.

SOLOJEDI: I guess there’s something beautiful about that. I just don’t get why the movie couldn’t have ended like, 5 minutes earlier on a lighter note, you know? 

LITTLEMERMAID: Wouldn’t you have wondered if their love lasted, though? I personally needed to see that it wasn’t just teenage infatuation or a passionate affair. That stuff burns out. I’m glad we got to see them in old age, still crazy about each other.

SOLOJEDI: Okay, okay. You win. It was perfect!!!!!!

LITTLEMERMAID: Did you really like it, or are you just making fun of me?

SOLOJEDI: I wouldn’t do that. I really, honestly liked it. Someday you are going to have to watch one of my favorite movies, though.

LITTLEMERMAID: Deal.


	6. Chapter 6

October 10th

 

 

Lydia loved when the seasons changed; out with the bright summer clothes, in with the sweaters and boots. It was a time for a fresh start. It was a time to focus on what really mattered moving forward.

Which was why she sat at her desk organizing her makeup bag.

She was hard at work trying to get everything categorized by color and uses and throwing out every shade that was no longer in style. Kira was sitting on the floor in front of the mirror curling her hair and chattering away about something that Lydia was only half paying attention to.

“So I was thinking that now that Scott and I are officially dating…”

God, she had so much blush. All of that would have to be thrown out. She cringed at the thought of wearing it ever again.

“I know you’ve met him before and talked over lunch and in our dorm, but…”

Lydia examined two bottles of the same shade of liquid eyeliner and tried to decide which brand she preferred to keep. 

“I just think it would be good if we were all friends.”

Lydia put on a color of lipstick she hadn’t used in a while and watched herself in the mirror as she tried out different poses while she spoke. “Kira. I love you, and if it means that much to you, I will hang out with you and your boyfriend and his friend and whoever else your little heart desires.”

Truth be told, Lydia had been meaning to get to know Scott better. It was her rightful duty as best friend of the girlfriend to observe the new boyfriend under intense scrutiny, right? And she couldn’t give her official seal of approval until she knew more about him. Did he like dogs? Did he walk on floors right after janitors were finished cleaning them? Did he smile when he saw Kira or just wave her over to him? These were crucial details.

“Really?” Kira asked, her tone made it obvious that she had been expecting a bigger battle.

“Yes.” She spun around in her chair to smile at her friend. ”God knows you’ve spent enough time with Jackson to last a lifetime. It’s time for me to return the favor.”

“That’s… very nice of you, Lydia.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.” She turned back around in her seat and started rearranging her mascaras. “So what’s the plan?”

“The four of us are going to the movies.”

The two girls continued getting ready, and they chatted about their boyfriends and rumors they’d heard around campus about a party from the weekend before. Once Lydia had decided on an outfit, she decided to relax for a few minutes and check her emails. She had news she needed to share with someone, and the only person she could think of was her pen pal.

 

LITTLEMERMAID: Hey, so this is kind of random, I guess, but I just really felt like telling someone, and my friends and I don’t really talk about stuff like this. Anyways, I’ve been working really hard on a report for the past few weeks, and I just got my grade for it back today. My professor wrote that I had the highest score in the class, and she’d never had a first semester student grasp her concepts so thoroughly. It’s probably not a big deal; it just made me kind of happy. Is that silly?

SOLOJEDI: Are you kidding?! That’s literally amazing. You’re the top of your class in a college course!!!! And if your professor said first semester students don’t typically do so well with it, it’s probably some pretty tough material. 

LITTLEMERMAID: It kind of is. It took a lot of hours in the library, but it totally paid off, I guess.

SOLOJEDI: I would shout it from the rooftops if I were that smart. Man, who knew I was talking to a genius.

LITTLEMERMAID: You sure know how to make a girl feel special, LOL.

SOLOJEDI: Well I’m sure your friends would agree with me if you told them. It’s hard not to be impressed by that because, for the record, it’s a very big deal.

LITTLEMERMAID: Some of them would be happy for me. I just think most of them wouldn’t care, and I’d rather not let anyone burst my bubble. I’m not so open about my schoolwork. I was just kind of bursting at the seams wanting to share this one piece of news with someone.

SOLOJEDI: That’s because it’s seriously awesome. Good job.

LITTLEMERMAID: Thank you. Really, it means a lot. Glad I picked the right person to tell.

 

 

Going to the movies was only fun if there was a chance for making out, and as she studied the lanky boy to her right as he scanned the theater trying to figure out if his seat wasn’t reclining as far back as all the others, she knew that was simply not an option.

She rolled her eyes as Stiles waved an employee over, and she turned to Kira, who was on her left.

“Scott and I are going to get candy.”

Kira laughed and looked at Scott. “Oh, you are?”

Scott looked taken aback, but collected himself quickly and stood up. “Uh, yeah. That’s the plan. What do you want, sweet or salty, chocolate or fruity?”

“Salty, but also chocolate,” Kira told him. “But not like, salty-chocolate. That’s not even a thing, is it?”

“Snacks? Did I hear snacks?” He fumbled around in his wallet and pulled out a twenty. “Can someone grab me some Reese’s Cups?”

Lydia looked from the large bill in his hand and back to him and smiled as she grabbed it from him and turned to guide Scott out of their aisle and out into the lobby. Well, she started to head straight for the lobby, but Scott gently grabbed her arm.

“Oh, careful. The floor’s still wet.” He pointed to a yellow sign that a worker was taping to the wall and led her a few feet out of the way even though everyone else around them just walked straight through, bringing mud and spilled drinks with them.

There was a line at the concession stand, which was fine since they had arrived ridiculously early anyway. That had been Stiles’ idea. (“Even though it _says_ it starts at 9 that means they’ll start dimming the lights a few minutes before and if there’s a crowd we could have trouble finding our seats which might mean missing the beginning of some of the previews which sets the mood for the…”)

“I’m glad we’re all hanging out,” Scott said with his hands in his pockets. “I felt bad I didn’t really get to talk to you at the football game last month.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, and then there was the car accident so you weren’t really around for a little while.”

Please don’t ask about the accident. Please don’t ask about the accident. Please don’t ask about the accident. That’s all anyone did. “Whose fault was it?” “Do you want my dad’s card? He’s totally a lawyer.” “Is it true you both were drunk?” She was in no mood to have to tell Kira’s new boyfriend off for invading-

“How are you feeling?” he asked, interrupting her internal rant about how nosey he was about to be.

“I’m fine,” she said automatically. She smiled at him quickly and darted her eyes, but something made her look back at him. He still had a warm smile on his face, nodding at her with understanding, his eyes nothing but genuine concern. Then she remembered the text he had sent her when she was in the hospital, just asking if she needed anything. She sighed, mostly at herself, and added, “The concussion was the worst part, but the headache is finally gone now.”

“Aw, man. I had a concussion once. I used to play lacrosse in like, 9th grade. And got knocked out during a game I could barely focus on anything for weeks afterwards.”

“Yes, exactly. I felt like an idiot. And if I tried to hard to focus-“

“The dizziness?”

“Yes!”

“The worst, right?”

“The simple fact that I’m standing upright and nothing is spinning right now is the greatest joy I have _ever_ felt.” 

Scott laughed. “Do you know what the only thing I could do when I had the headaches and dizziness? It’s so embarrassing. You know those adult coloring books?”

Lydia snorted. Like, actually, uncontrollably, loudly snorted. She couldn’t stop laughing. “You mean… like those arts and crafts mom’s do while they drink wine?”

He was laughing too. “Yes, that is exactly what I mean.”

“Next!”

Lydia struggled to catch her breath as they realized they were at the front of the line. “Hi, can I get a cherry slushie? And a pack of Reese’s Cups, please.”

She paid and moved aside to give Scott room to order.

“Hmmm. Salty _and_ chocolate. How about a box of Buncha Crunch and a medium popcorn? Thanks.” 

They gathered their snacks and headed back to the theater. They stood at the door, scanning the seats trying to remember where they had sat. Lydia was still looking around when she glanced Scott from the corner of her eye, smiling like an idiot. She followed his gaze to find Kira leaning over Lydia’s seat to watch a video Stiles was showing her on his phone.

“Do you like dogs?” Lydia asked him so suddenly she didn’t even have time to make sense of it. 

Scott turned his head a little, grinning. “I love them. I work at an animal clinic everyday.”

She smiled just as Stiles spotted them. He stood up and waved his arms even though they clearly saw him. 

They took their seats and gave their friends their candy. Lydia tried to get comfortable in her seat as she watched the lame commercials, but she realized that maybe an ice cold drink wasn’t the best choice since movie theaters always seemed to have their air conditioning on full blast.

“Could it be any colder in here?” she said more to herself than anyone else.

Stiles started unzipping his orange jacket. “Here.”

She put up her hand to stop him. “I'm wearing blue. Orange and blue, not a good combination.”

For some reason, Stiles looked utterly offended. “But it's the colors of the Mets!”

Lydia had no idea what that meant, so she didn’t say anything at all. Stiles seemed to want to try again, so he offered her a Reese’s Cup. Lydia’s first instinct was to decline or to explain that chocolate isn’t included in most diets, but he was trying so hard and being nice to her even though she probably didn’t deserve it. So after a moment of consideration, she took his peace offering and was pleased at the grin on his face.

“Okay, um, maybe orange and blue is not the best. Right. Um, you know, sometimes there's other things you wouldn't think would be a good combination… end up turning out to be, like, a perfect combination, you know, like two people together who nobody ever thought would be together ever.”

She listened to him as he talked about people being good combinations and realized he was right. He watched as Scott helped Kira open her candy and how she leaned her head on his shoulder as they made fun of the commercials and laughed. Scott was good enough for his friend, and even more, Lydia actually, truly liked him.

“No, I can see that,” she agreed.

“You can?”

“Yeah. They're cute together.”  
  
Stiles followed her gaze to their friends. “Oh, yeah, them.”

“Cute.”

“Cute. Adorable.”

“You know, I should warn you,” Lydia said, changing the subject. “I _hate_ scary movies.”

Stiles laughed and said it would be fine and started talking too fast about his first experience with a scary movie (“Okay, like, I know _The Haunted Mansion_ is just a Disney movie but to a 7 year old kid it was pretty freaky, alright?!)

She wasn’t really paying attention. She was trying to remain calm, no matter how “fine” Stiles said it would be. People always thought she was being dramatic. But she eternally seemed to be on edge, and the second something popped out, Lydia had this _scream_ , this blood curdling, lose-your-hearing shriek that made most people more scared than the movie did. It was awful, and she always felt so embarrassed.

Soon the lights dimmed and the previews started, which in itself turned out to be an experience sitting next to Stiles. He had this habit of saying if the movie would be good or bad as soon as the trailer started. Like, literally 3 seconds into it.

“This will be a good movie,” he said quietly, mostly to himself. 

“What? Why?” she asked.

He must not have realized she was paying attention to what he said because he did a double take. “Can tell by the setting,” he whispered, focusing back on the screen. “Cities are good for movies.”

She was still trying to make sense of that when the next preview started.

“Awful movie.”

She threw her hands up. “How can you possibly know that?”

“It’s all in the song choice.”

They were still whisper-fighting about how much you can tell about a movie from one scene out of a two minute preview when the movie started. Lydia didn’t even know what the movie was about, just that it was in the horror genre; something about an abandoned cabin housing all the un-dead people who had vacationed there. She tried to convince herself that it was more dumb than scary, that she would be fine. 

But sure enough, about twenty minutes into the movie, a weird, zombie-like creature came out of the ground and started chasing the main character. Lydia lost control. She screamed so loud that Stiles jumped and wrapped both of his arms around her. She leaned over into his seat and let him hold her and almost didn’t feel their friends and most people in the theater staring at her.

Lydia let Stiles hold her for the rest of the movie, and he didn’t make her feel embarrassed or stupid or anything besides… safe.


	7. Chapter 7

October 24th

  

SOLOJEDI: So last night for the second time in a year I had this dream that I was in Jurassic Park. Not the movie, like, literally inside the park. And a T-Rex got out and my tour guide was like, “okay, everyone, just like the instructions in the safety manual say, please proceed to the nearest area with a roof and remain absolutely silent,” and I was the only one who thought it was strange?! Everyone else just ran along and took cover! So I was like, forget this, I’m going home, when suddenly my house appeared right in front of me. And, as luck would have it, the T-Rex stomped on it a second later. Just as I turned to run away, I woke up. What do you think that means?

LITTLEMERMAID: That you had too much sugar before bed?

SOLOJEDI: Woah, did you study dream interpretation?

LITTLEMERMAID: Haha. Okay, in all seriousness, I think Jurassic Park represents college. It’s this new place where everything is chaotic and stressful. You kind of want to run home to where it’s familiar and safe, but you can’t until you stay and get what you came here for. You have to challenge yourself and face the T-Rex. Either that or you just have some weird dinosaur phobia.

SOLOJEDI: So I have to submerge myself in a tank of dinosaurs to get over my fear and get rid of this dream?

LITTLEMERMAID: I don’t have to remind you they’re extinct right?

SOLOJEDI: Oh, great! I’m stuck with this recurring nightmare forever!

LITTLEMERMAID: You could try not having any sugar before bed.

SOLOJEDI: There’s a better chance of finding a tank full of dinosaurs.

 

They talked for another hour while Stiles ate cereal in bed and got ready for his day of classes.

He liked when they emailed in the mornings; it was a nice way to start the day. Sometimes they emailed throughout the day, but that was too scattered to really hold a conversation. Usually they talked at night as he lay in bed. They told each other general stuff about their day, discussed construction on campus or the weather or TV shows. They talked about everything. The only consistent thing, really, was that they talked everyday, no matter what.

Eventually Stiles left for his two back-to-back classes of the day. He dry swallowed two Adderall on the way, knowing he needed to be focused for longer than usual because today was no ordinary day. Today was Lydia Martin’s birthday.

Right after class he drove to the mall in his crappy, precious jeep. He didn’t even know what stores girls liked, so he stopped at the pretzel shop to brainstorm while he waited in the line. After thirty seconds of no ideas, he called Scott.

“What do girls like?” he asked as Scott picked up the phone. They never said standard greetings to each other; they were so far beyond that.

“What?”

“What do girls-“

“No, I heard you. I mean… uh, why?”

“Cinnamon sugar.”

“Huh?”

“Not you, the pretzel lady. Sorry, _woman,”_ he said more to her than to Scott after the glare he received. Then he covered his mouth and whispered into the phone, “What was I supposed to call her? The Shopping Mall Snack Connoisseur?”

“Stiles.” 

“Right, sorry. Okay, so like, you’re in a mall where you can buy almost anything. Only problem is, it’s not for you. It’s for a girl. What do you get?”

“I don’t know, man. Off the top of my head… one of those umbrellas that are upside down so the water doesn’t get all over the place after you use it.”

“That’s off the top of your head,” he asked, but it came out more like a statement.

“I’ve been watching a lot of infomercials this morning. Who is this for?”

“Is there anyway I could please get that glaze dipping sauce melted on top of it, please? Instead of just on the side. Please,” he asked extra nicely to try to get back on Pretzel Woman’s good side. He balanced the phone between his ear and shoulder as he got his wallet out to pay. “It’s for no one. I was just playing a game of What Would You Do? You lost though, buddy. An umbrella is a terrible present.”

“Stiles, you’re not doing anything embarrassing, right? You’re not getting a present for-“

“No, of course not. Bye!”

He hung up, paid for his food, and headed into the first store he could find. He spent a full hour trying to find the perfect present for Lydia, and when he realized the perfect present for her didn’t exist, he decided to just go with the biggest. It seemed like a good idea until that night when he carried it across campus and then up 30 steps just to get it to her. Leave it to Lydia to open up the entire floor just for her birthday party.

When she invited him after class on Tuesday, Stiles thought maybe she meant someone else, or maybe Scott had paid her to invite her. But by the end of the conversation, he was fairly confident she had simply just… wanted him to come? It was very new to him, but he accepted it without question, except for when he ran home and interrogated Scott for the remainder of the night about whether he did, in fact, force her to invite him.

Regardless, he was here now, and he walked by a few groups of people he recognized from campus before he got to Lydia’s dorm. He tapped the huge box he carried on her open door, and she appeared a few moments later.

“Happy birthday!”

“You got me a present?”

“It’s your birthday! Isn’t that standard?”

She looked at him like he was 10 years old and laughed. “Not at a college party. That was sweet, though. Um, just put it…” she gestured for him to enter her dorm, “Wherever it will fit.”

He put it down between her desk and her closet, and she handed him a glass of punch.

He wanted to tell her how pretty she looked (He probably looked like an idiot in his green t-shirt and blue flannel. Did that even match?), or how nice it was of her to invite everyone on her floor, not just her friends so that no one would feel left out. He wanted to tell her a lot of things, but instead the moment of them alone in her dorm just passed him by.

“Drink up. And try to socialize, Stiles.”

He barely saw her again for 2 hours. She seemed to be jumping from group to group offering people beverages and making sure everyone was having fun.

Stiles, on the other hand, spent most of his time drinking with people he already knew: Scott and Kira. The thought of going up to a bunch of peers and starting a mundane conversation about classes or sports was enough to make his heart start pounding in his ears. Sure, the alcohol was helping with that, but he still preferred to stay in his comfort zone. The most he ventured outside of it was when he gave a quick nod to Jackson when he showed up an hour late with his teammates. Jackson looked right at him and ignored him.

“Fantastic,” he muttered to himself, as Kira and Scott were off refilling their drinks.  
  
“What?” 

He jumped slightly and clumsily spilled his drink on himself when he realized Lydia had been standing right beside him.

“Oh, uh, nothing. I was just… uh, this place really filled up,” he said, trying to make small talk. He wondered why she hadn’t gone off to be with Jackson.

“Yeah, well, it was super early when you first got here.”

He looked at his watch and realized he had gotten there ten minutes after she told him the party was starting. He guessed it was just another Lydia-thing that her parties _actually_ start an hour after the designated time. 

“Oh, right, sorry about that. I just usually try to arrive to places first. I kind of have this social anxiety thing, I guess. If I get overwhelmed sometimes I have, like, panic attacks. It’s totally cool though. No big deal.”

He was rambling. He shouldn’t have told her all of that, and she already seemed bored with him. He wondered how much alcohol was in her famous punch.

After an excruciatingly awkward silence, he continued, “Anyways…um, seems like you have a ton of friends. I think half the campus is here.”

“Not that it matters. They’ve all been walking on eggshells around me ever since the accident thanks to the rumors that it was all Jackson’s fault for texting and driving. They probably think I shouldn’t have even let him get behind the wheel after such an emotional game.”  
  
Suddenly her eyes got wide as if she realized she too had said too much to him. 

“I should go switch the playlist,” she said just as he opened his mouth to respond. She was gone in an instant.

Stiles tried to figure Lydia Martin out for the thousandth time, but quickly realized that might be impossible. He chugged the remains of his cup and walked over to Kira.

“Hey, Stiles,” she said. “Are you having fun? I’m having fun. I don’t know why I said that, because I’m actually not having fun, and you didn’t even ask, so why did I even bring it up?”

Kira always talked too fast, but Stiles also talked to fast, so he was usually able to keep up with her. He was, however, currently on his fifth glass of Lydia’s punch, and it was becoming increasingly hard to follow along with conversations. 

So maybe he shouldn’t have laughed at her complex sentence, but he quickly regained himself and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Me and Scott got in a fight. Do you guys ever fight?”

“Oh, yeah. We disagree about things everyday because he’s wrong a lot, but our big blowouts are usually on stuff like… who used the rest of the toothpaste and didn’t replace it? Or why are your clothes on my side of the room? Nothing too big, I guess.”

Kira smiled. “That’s because you two are basically brothers. I shouldn’t have even tried to talk about it with you.”

“No, no. Go ahead, please. I can constructively criticize my boy. What’d he do? Offer to be the martyr than complain about it? Insist on taking the moral high road? Become blinded by his incessant desire to be the leader?”

“Well, yes, actually. He’s like that all the time. But tonight I made a joke about how I could beat him in lacrosse and he totally didn’t find it funny or whatever so I rolled my eyes and he got mad at me for that but I was already mad at him for clearly thinking I couldn’t beat him at lacrosse, which is totally rude, right? And like…”

Kira kept talking, her hands flailing around dramatically as she spoke with all the passion of someone who had consumed a fair amount of alcohol. It was just a dumb, drunk fight, but people involved in dumb, drunk fights don’t realize that they’re dumb until they are no longer drunk.

Stiles nodded. “Oh, yeah. Classic Scott. This issue has come to light before, and I’ve even seen symptoms in other people our age. It’s like this character trait that only presents itself every so often. Do you want to know what it is?”

She leaned in and looked so concerned for what awful news Stiles was about to tell her that he almost felt bad. But instead he put his arm around her shoulder and said seriously, “You’re both drunk.”

She busted out laughing, and Stiles had a moment of gratitude that she was dating his friend.

“You’re a good guy. And you’re nice. And you’re _so_ funny.”

“Now I know you’re drunk.”

She started cracking up again as Scott approached them.

“What’s going on?” 

“Oh, just some best-friend-girl-friend bonding.”

Scott looked suspiciously between the two of them and then grabbed Stiles’ arm. “Well, whatever, we’re leaving.”

Stiles pulled Scott back and freed his own arm. “No, actually, _I’m_ leaving. You’re gonna stay here and stop being an idiot. Have another drink, or maybe some water, and you guys can bond over how you’d _both_ kick my ass at lacrosse. Who even plays that?”

He quickly walked away from the pair, getting ready to leave without saying goodbye to anyone and wondering what was worse, fighting with someone you cared about and ruining your own Friday night, or never having anyone to fight with. He decided it was way worse being alone.

When he got to the stairs, he turned back around one last time. Everyone at the party seemed to be with someone. Boyfriends, girlfriends, lab partners, dorm neighbors. Guys and guys. Guys and girls. Girls and girls. Scott and Kira already seemed to have made up, and Lydia was in Jackson’s arms.

All was right in the world.


	8. Chapter 8

November 6th

 

Jackson asked Lydia to meet him by the locker room before the game. Her gut told her that it was a bad sign, but her head told her that things had been going great for them.

Sure, he was still tense a lot because of football and busy juggling school and practice, but it had just taken them some time to get into the swing of college. She was getting the hang of when not to bother him and when he’d want to see her. 

Even as she saw him standing there in the not-at-all-empty hallway, she was repeating to herself, _Things will be fine. Everything is fine. We will be fine. Fine. Fine. Fine._

She knew something was wrong, however, as soon as she kissed him. He pulled back too quickly. He wasn’t smiling. He was avoiding her eyes.

“What is it?”

“I… can’t see you anymore.”

It was as if all the wind had gotten knocked out of her. Like someone was squeezing her heart as hard as they could.

“You’re breaking up with me?” she managed to choke out.

“Dumping, actually,” he snapped quickly. “All of our friends pretty much agree that you ruin everything. I forget my stuff for practice at your dorm; I’m late for weights because God forbid we don’t have lunch together. The whole school is counting on me, rooting for _me_ , and you… well…” She flinched and he didn’t finish his sentence. His expression turned soft.

This was how he always was: mean, until he realized he had hurt her feelings. Then he’d be nice and pull her back in. Then he’d be mean again. It was a pattern Lydia had grown accustomed to.

“Look, I’m sorry if this-“

“This isn’t funny,” she interrupted, hoping that maybe he’d start laughing and say it was all a joke.

“I’m not trying to be funny. I need my key back.”

Her hand automatically went to the necklace she always wore that had his key hanging on it. 

“What the hell is this about?” 

“I’m preparing for some big changes in my life. Between school and football…”

He reached over and gently lifted the necklace over her head. She reached out and held his hand with the key in it. She realized then that she was crying.

“…I've decided to drop some of the dead weight in my Iife.” He squeezed her hand before abruptly dropping it. “And you're just about the deadest.” 

With that, he tossed the key up with one hand and caught it in the other, winked, and walked toward the locker room leaving Lydia by herself.

How had this happened? Everything was upside down. She had lost everything. How had she messed up so badly? She always thought she would marry Jackson, that she would be his forever. And now she was nothing.

_Nothing_ echoed in her head.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there with her mouth hanging open, but eventually she made her way to her car.

For a while, she welcomed the silence. She wanted to be alone to cry as openly as she wanted. She didn’t need someone telling her it would be okay or that she was too good for Jackson or any other typical break up sympathies people usually said. 

She should have put her keys in the ignition and drove back to her dorm, but a part of her was still hoping her knight in shining armor would show up saying he was wrong, he’d changed his mind, she was what he wanted most in the world.

She waited an excruciating three minutes for Jackson to figure out the fairytale and show up just in time before sighing at her own pathetic-ness and dialing Kira’s number.

It wasn’t until it went straight to voicemail that Lydia realized how badly she needed a friend right then. She put her head in her hands and sobbed.

When she finally managed to calm her breathing a few minutes later, she looked in her rearview mirror right as someone walked by. _Of course_ it was Stiles. The entire school was inside the stadium watching the game, and he was roaming the parking lot.

She leaned down in her seat so that he wouldn’t see her.

“Hey, Lydia!”

She groaned and rolled her window up, simultaneously trying to wipe away the tears that continued to fall from her eyes.

“What's wrong?” he asked as he got to the car. He tapped on her window, as if she could possibly have not noticed that he was there. “Lydia, come on.”

“Go away!” she finally answered. “I don’t need anyone seeing me cry.”

He continued tapping away. “Come on, Lydia.”

More tapping. 

It seemed like he’d stand there forever trying to get her attention, but she was very skilled in the art of ignoring someone. She could go several minutes pretending someone wasn’t talking to her, which actually was exactly what was happening.

Finally, the tapping subsided, and she heard Stiles sigh with frustration. “You shouldn't care if people see you cry, all right? Especially you.”

That accidentally got her attention, and she whipped her head in his direction. “Why?”

“Because I think you look really beautiful when you cry.”

She exhaled loudly. Leave it to Stiles. She unlocked the door, and he looked at her to be sure before quickly running around to the passenger side and climbing in the front seat.

“Are you okay?”

Lydia rolled her eyes at the stupid question and gestured to her tears. 

“Oh, right. Yeah, dumb question.”

She noticed he was wearing a sweatshirt with their school’s colors on it. “What are you doing walking around the parking lot at night by yourself?” She wasn’t sure if it came out like she thought he was a freak or if she was worried about his safety.

“I was playing video games then I remembered I won a ticket to the game at freshman orientation this summer but I don’t even like football so I decided to come down here and try to sell it to someone with is probably immoral or something since I got it for free but fate already dealt with that when I got here like twenty minutes after the game started since it’s deserted out here so I guess my last resort plan was to just go into the stupid game and at the very least get a delicious hotdog,” he rushed out like it was the most pointless conversation in the world.

She opened her mouth to comment something tedious, but Stiles didn’t even wait one full second before he looked over at her, everything about him more serious than before. “So what happened?”

She realized he just wasn’t interested in talking about anything that didn’t pertain to why she was currently crying and any effort to derail the conversation would be futile. Deep down, maybe that’s why she let him in her car.

“You’re going to think I’m a loser.”

“Lydia, if you trust me on anything, you can trust me on this: There's nothing that you can say to me that will make you sound like a loser. Literally, nothing.“

“Oh, really?” She turned to him angrily. “Well what if I said that the quarterback of our football team dumped me because I was slowing him down? He’s always wanted to go on to be a professional football player, and he can’t do that with me holding him back. I’m just like, the lowest, stupidest person.”

“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t say that. Don’t even think that. That’s not even close to being a fraction of a little bit true, okay? You’re… you’re like, the most…”

“Stop. Please don’t say anything nice to me. You always do that.”

Stiles listened and didn’t say anything for a while. They sat in silence until he started tapping his leg up and down and drumming his fingers on the dashboard. 

She finally heard him let out a deep breath. “Can I just say one thing?” he asked.

“Go ahead. I can see that you’re itching to.”

“If anything, I really think you dodged a bullet.”

Lydia laughed once sarcastically. “Jackson is the most popular person on campus. He’s a freshman, and he’s the best quarterback this school’s ever had. Everyone loves him. Yeah, thank goodness I got away from him when I did.”

She looked away from him and caught her reflection in the window. She hadn’t noticed before, but at some point she had stopped crying.

“Well, yeah, sure, he’s cool and talented and a god amongst us mere mortals, but quite frankly, I’ve always thought he was kind of a douchebag.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“No, believe me, I’m not. Do you know I’ve never seen him smile? And he was mad at you for something stupid every time I was with you guys.”

She couldn’t fight him on that. Ever since the season started, Jackson had been angry most of the time. Lydia wanted to tell Stiles about the night of the car accident; how Jackson had been reading a recap of the game on his phone, and how that was what really caused the crash.

But she had dated Jackson all throughout high school. Whatever happened to them along the way, she had truly loved him at one point, and he loved her. She knew that. And somehow, you always protect the ones you love, even when you should hate them.

“He had his flaws. I’ll still miss him though,” she said quietly as she looked down at your hands.

“That’s because you’re a good person.”

She flipped her overhead mirror down to examine her face. “Yeah, well, I think you’re the only one at this school who thinks that.”

“Kira knows it, too. So does Scott.” He handed her a tissue. She wasn’t even sure where he had gotten it, but she managed to smile at him as she took it. “We can be, like, a little pack.”

She laughed once at that. “A four-person wolf pack? Fine, as long as I’m the alpha.”

“Come on, Scott’s gotta be the alpha. He’s the biggest.”

“Actually, the hierarchy of a canis lupus pack is determined based on psychological tests rather than physical abilities. Things like hunting ability, attitude, and loyalty to the territory are valued above the objective size of each member.”

She hadn’t even noticed she’d been giving a detailed report about the structure of wolf packs until she look over at Stiles, whose jaw had dropped.

Lydia giggled nervously. “But, I mean, I was just joking. I’d let Scott be alpha.” 

Stiles finally snapped out of it and smiled. “Yeah, well, I’d let you two duke it out for the alpha spot while I claimed the lowest rank. I’d start as the omega and then sneakily rise to the top and overthrow the both of you.”

“You’ve got a bit of an evil streak, Stiles.” They both started laughing then, and Lydia was unsure if the silly conversation was actually funny or if it just felt great to have her mind focused on something else. Either way, she welcomed it. 

Once they caught their breaths, reality seemed to set back in. Lydia remembered that her heart was broken and that she had cried about it to a random boy on campus who didn’t know the first thing about her relationship with Jackson. He had probably only even approached her car earlier to be polite because he’d seen her sobbing. He was just a nice boy, and she had been an embarrassing mess, which were two words Lydia Martin had _never_ associated with herself before that day.

Her armor seemed to return as she wiped the drying tears from her cheeks and smoothed out her hair. “Yes, well, thank you for talking to me. I’m sure I overreacted. I’ll be fine.”

Stiles didn’t look surprised at her sudden new façade, but he still asked, “Are you sure?”

She nodded quickly. “Of course. I don’t really feel like sitting through some dumb football game, though. I think I’ll just drive back to the dorm parking lots and go to bed early.”

He waited a moment. She wasn’t sure what the look on his face was, but it was gone quickly. He nodded and quietly got out of the car.

She sped off without looking back.

 

 

SOLOJEDI: You know what I hate?

LITTLEMERMAID: Oh, please share.

SOLOJEDI: I hate that beautiful people herd together. Why is that? Like, has it ever worked out once in the history of mankind? Has going for the hot person ever proved to be a better choice than going for the nice person? It always ends up bad, but nothing ever changes.

LITTLEMERMAID: It’s because they know right off the bat that they have something in common. They’re treated the same way by people, they’ve probably been through similar things, and they probably will end up in the same place. It’s a comfort zone thing.

SOLOJEDI: Well, now I know for sure. You’re one of the beautiful people.

LITTLEMERMAID: That’s a nice conclusion of you to make, but I’m actually just shallow.

SOLOJEDI: Why do you say that?

LITTLEMERMAID: My whole life I’ve judge people on how they look. I choose who I hang out with, who I date, who I ignore… all based on if someone is “cool” or not. I am a superficial bitch.

SOLOJEDI: Woah! Don’t talk about my friend like that! Where is all this coming from?

LITTLEMERMAID: Let’s just say today it all blew up in my face.

SOLOJEDI: Well, first of all, the person I know is not a superficial… you-know-what. You care about things like intelligence and your art. In these chats I’ve witnessed you passionately defend things you believe in, whether it’s people’s willingness to change or the end of The Notebook. You’re fun to talk to, and you wouldn’t be if you weren’t a good person.

LITTLEMERMAID: I don’t know what to say to that, which is very rare for me.

SOLOJEDI: Then let’s continue. I had a second of all, which is just a piece of advice: if you don’t like the person you are, you can change, you know.

LITTLEMERMAID: The great philosophers of the world wonder if human beings really can change.

SOLOJEDI: Okay, yes, we probably can’t change who we innately are. Like, I’ll never be some confident, chill, prince charming who saves the day. I don’t think I’ll ever go from being kind of impulsively brave to being a quiet little coward. But I can _improve_ myself. I can work on maybe not being so hotheaded and sarcastic.

LITTLEMERMAID: If only I could give you some of my confidence, and you could give me some of your bravery.

SOLOJEDI: Yeah, funny how that works out, huh?

LITTLEMERMAID: Can I tell you something that might help, though? Since you’ve been so nice to me.

SOLOJEDI: Sure.

LITTLEMERMAID: You're funny and sweet and insightful. Really. So I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but that makes _you_ beautiful.

SOLOJEDI: Thanks, Little Mermaid.

LITTLEMERMAID: You’re welcome, Solo Jedi.


	9. Chapter 9

November 7th

  

Stiles knew that sometimes after a traumatic event, it could take the person a few minutes after they wake up to remember it. Much like after a night of drinking, how for a moment you think you’re just waking up from a normal sleep. It’s only once your senses kick in that you realize you’re hungover and that the previous night wasn’t just some crazy dream.

That didn’t happen to Stiles.

He remembered everything as soon as he woke up, before he even opened his eyes. He felt the throbbing on his cheek, the sting of the cut on his lip, and the complete and utter shame that pulsated through his entire body.

It happened as he was walking into the football game. It was the team’s biggest game of the season against their rivals. He was walking through a dark part of the parking lot, and heard a few guys from the other school yelling stuff at him about his school and their team. He should have run right then, but truthfully he wasn’t that fast and there were at least 3 of them. Plus, he was 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones, so sarcasm was his only defense. In retrospect, however, he realized that if he hadn’t run his mouth, they probably would have just teased him for a few minutes and then left it alone. Instead, his big mouth yelled a few crude remarks at them, and they got angry. It was humiliating and painful.

He finally willed himself to open his eyes, and Scott was standing over him, watching.

“Dude, what the hell?” Stiles asked.

His friend breathed a sigh of relief. “Give me a break. I wasn’t sure you were breathing for a second there.” He walked back over to his bed and sat down. 

“I got beat up, not shot. It’s fine.” 

“It’s not fine!” Scott practically yelled. “I wish you got a better look at their faces. Man, one call to your dad, and he’d have the cops at that school questioning the entire student body so fas-“

Stiles sat up, holding his bruised ribs as he did so. “Do not call my dad. Please. He’s getting married in a few weeks; this is the last thing he needs on his plate. He can’t know about this. I don’t want anyone to know.”

Just then, Scott’s phone buzzed, and he looked at it and then put it in his pocket so quickly that it raised suspicion.

“You didn’t already tell anyone, did you?”

“No. Don’t worry about it.” He started putting his sneakers on. “If you won’t let me tell anyone _or_ help you find the assholes that did it, can I at least go get you some bandages? And maybe an ice pack? You’re not looking too good, bro.”

Scott’s voice was thick with concern. When Stiles had called him last night to ask for help getting back to the dorm, his friend had gotten to him in less than 5 minutes, and the entire walk home he ranted about how he should have been there. Stiles knew there was no reason for Scott to have been in the parking lot with him since he himself didn’t actually have a ticket to the game, but he understood what Scott was thinking. They were like brothers, and if Scott had been hurt, Stiles would be itching to make it better in any way that he could.

“That would be great, buddy. Thanks.”

Scott ran out like a man on a mission, probably scared Stiles would change his mind and tell him not to help. Stiles had to admire his stupid good heart.

As soon as he was alone, he collapsed onto his bed and put his head under a pillow. He didn’t want to think about it or talk to anyone or even get out of bed. So he wouldn’t, not for anything or anyone.

It was barely 5 minutes later when there was a knock at the door. He yelled for Scott to just open the door himself - that it wasn’t locked - a few times before becoming annoyed and just getting up to open it for him.

However, when he swung the door open, it wasn’t Scott who had been knocking. It was Lydia, and all the annoyance inside of him melted.

“Hi,” she said more quietly than he had ever heard her speak.

“Hi.”

“Scott let me in.” 

“He did?” he asked, and then remembered how he had checked his phone before rushing out. “Yeah, of course he did.”

He wasn’t even sure if Lydia had been listening, because when he stopped talking, he realized she was staring intently at the cuts on his face. 

“Oh, uh,” he said awkwardly, gesturing to his face. “Yeah, no, it's nothing. Don't worry about it. I'm fine.”

She still didn’t tear her eyes away from his injuries. Under any other circumstances, Stiles would be thrilled if Lydia were staring at him like that.

“Do you want to come in?” he blurted out.

She nodded eagerly and walked by him. When he turned around, she was sitting on his bed. Stiles was now 99% sure that he was actually in a coma, and this was just a wonderful, vivid dream he was having.

“Are there any injuries other than the facial lacerations, or are all the wounds superficial?” She pulled an ice pack out of her purse and handed it to him as he sat down.

He hesitated, confused by her medical jargon, and also piecing together that she must have gotten the ice from Scott. After a moment, he took it from her. “Um… my facial… no, my ribs are bruised too.”

Stiles was also fairly sure he had a concussion based on the difficulty he was having following along, but he didn’t want to tell her that. She seemed uneasy enough as it was.

“It happened after I forced you out of my car.” 

“Oh, you didn’t force me out. I just… was no longer on your radar.”

“Okay, so I forced you out of my radar. Either way, this wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for me.”

 “Do you always blame yourself for things you can’t control?” he snapped, unsure why that had made him kind of angry.

“It was me who decided to sit in a parking lot at night. It was me who kicked you out and left you alone. It was all me.”

“Lydia.”

She stood up and kept her back to him. “So it should have been me who got beat up, not you.”

She was crying, and he wondered if this was one of those things where they were talking about one thing, but she was upset about another. Or maybe she really was this upset he got beat up. Or maybe she did just feel entirely too guilty. Or maybe he still knew nothing about Lydia Martin. Either way, that last sentence struck a chord in him, and he knew he was just completely angry.

He was in front of her when he spoke, adrenaline helping him to move quickly and also giving him the courage to look right into her eyes. “See, that's the problem. You don't care about getting hurt. But you know how I'd feel? I'd be devastated. If this happened to you,” he gestured to his cut-up face, “I would literally go out of my freaking mind.”

He’d gotten close to her as he spoke, his voice rising, but she didn’t flinch. In fact, she seemed to raise her head up even higher, like she wasn’t going to be scared away by his over-emotional state.

Still, he shouldn’t have yelled. “I’m so sorry,” was all he could think to say.

“It’s okay.”

She wasn’t crying anymore. She stepped around him to sit back on the bed, and Stiles was able to wait two whole seconds before following her once again.

“So… have you talked to Jackson?” 

“No. His roommate says he doesn’t want to see me,” she said matter-of-factly as she rolled her eyes. “Wonder how many minutes it will take me to get over that.”

“Oh, wow, that’s really-“ She gave him a look that warned him to change the subject, so he cleared his throat. “Um… it was nice of you to come see if I was okay.”

“I didn’t know you play baseball,” she said distractedly. Stiles looked over to see she had been sitting there examining the contents of his room as he spoke beside her. She was looking at a baseball bat that was leaning behind the door.

“I don’t. I just keep it around for like, protection.”

“Protection?”  
  
“Yeah, you know… if someone breaks in or I find a monster under my bed. It’s like the universal weapon.” 

Suddenly she was off the bed and over by his desk. “Why do you have women’s jewelry?”

“Oh!” he jumped up, racking his brain for an explanation but coming up short. “Uh, nothing. It's… just some stuff I bought, you know, for… your birthday.” 

She paused, confused. “For me?”

“Yeah, I just I kind of didn't know what to get you, so I just bought you, like, a bunch of stuff.” Lydia started flipping through piles of bracelets and rings. “Like, a lot of stuff. You know, I was gonna return anything that I didn't give you.”

At the exact same moment, both of their eyes landed on a huge box in the corner.

“A flat-screen TV?”

“Yeah, that I'm definitely returning.”

Lydia smiled then, and Stiles wished he could read her mind.

“By the way… thank you. For last night. I’m glad I didn’t have to be alone, but I’m sorry what happened to you because of it.”

God, she was beautiful. Like, really, really beautiful. And nice. And so much cooler than he would ever be. Even the way she was just standing there was somehow better than how he was standing. He knew in that moment that he’d do it all again, get hurt a hundred times, if it always led to her coming to his room to thank him.

He waved his hand absently. “You’re welcome.”

She walked over to his bed and picked up her purse. “So, Scott and Kira are bringing pizza over later. I’m coming back with soda. I just needed – er, wanted – to talk to you before then.”

She paused by the door, a strange look on her face before flipping her hair and turning the knob. “You should get some rest until then, okay?” 

With that, she left and Stiles suddenly felt his injuries again. He’d almost forgotten he was hurt at all while she was there, like she was some kind of drug that could numb his pain.

 

  

SOLOJEDI: Did you know they’re doing construction on the sidewalk between the administrative offices and the main building? I was late to class today because of it!

LITTLEMERMAID: Don’t you know that rule? You should act as if there will be traffic _and_ construction and leave early enough to allow yourself time just in case either are true.

SOLOJEDI: No one in the world follows that rule. 

LITTLEMERMAID: I do!

SOLOJEDI: Of course you do. What if you anticipate all those obstacles and then there are none? Then you’re just ridiculously early.

LITTLEMERMAID: I’m always early. It gives me time to organize my notes.

SOLOJEDI: My notes are a mess.

LITTLEMERMAID: I’m shocked.

SOLOJEDI: I’ll leave 5 minutes earlier tomorrow. Happy?

LITTLEMERMAID: I’d feel better if it was 10 minutes earlier, but 5 will suffice. Do you have messy hair?

SOLOJEDI: Why?

LITTLEMERMAID: I always picture messy hair. Hairs a mess, stains on your clothes, looks like you just woke up.

SOLOJEDI: You think I look like a homeless person.

LITTLEMERMAID: I do not!

SOLOJEDI: I picture you with perfectly straight hair, clothes matching everything you’re wearing down to the insides of your shoes, and glasses.

LITTLEMERMAID: Hmm. Isn’t it interesting what our minds come up with for pictures? It’s like how a million people could read stories like The Chronicles of Narnia and Harry Potter, and each one would have a different vision of what the magical lands actually look like.

SOLOJEDI: Do you think we’ll ever know for sure? What the other looks like?

LITTLEMERMAID: Maybe we already do.


	10. Chapter 10

November 13th

 

 

“What do you think about Stiles?” Kira asked.

Lydia, who lay in bed filing her nails, paused to pretend she was deep in thought. Then, two seconds later, she replied with a cheerful, “Nothing,” before continuing with her manicure.

“What?”

“I think nothing of Stiles.”

Kira rolled her eyes. “Lydia.”

“I mean it! I don’t think about him at all. He’s just… Stiles. I don’t know.”

“Is he your friend?”

Lydia scoffed. “No.”

“But you went to see him when he was hurt. And he came to see you after your accident.”

Lydia thought about that. She had only gone to see him to be nice, which was a new thing she was trying. And Stiles had only come to see her because… he was Stiles. He was always around, eager to please, following her like a puppy. That wasn’t friendship, no matter how it may have looked to outsiders. 

“We’re acquaintances. Why are we even talking about this?”

Kira turned around in her chair and folded her arms very business-like. “Because I have an idea that could benefit both you and your acquaintance: a wedding.”

“I’m not marrying Stiles.” 

“Must you always be such a ball of _sass_?” Lydia opened her mouth to reply, but Kira continued without giving her a chance. “I meant you could be his date to his dad’s wedding. I’m going with Scott. It would be fun!”

“How is that beneficial to me?”

“You’ve been feeling down about Jackson for weeks now. I think a night out in a fancy dress with friends and champagne could do you a world of good.”

“And how would a fabulous night out for me be beneficial to Stiles?”

“You have to know he’s in love with you, Lydia. And he needs a date. This would make his night.”

To that, Lydia just waved her hand dismissively. The only thing her mind could focus on was her wallet, which was placed on her bedside table looking ever so bored.

But still, something didn’t seem right about this. She dragged her eyes away from her tempting wallet and turned back to Kira.

“Can I get back to you?” 

She didn’t know what to do. A night out sounded great, but was it mean to go for the wrong reasons? She was trying to be a nicer person. Kira would tell her to go, no matter what; she just wanted her best friend to be happy for a night. No one knew about her struggles lately, about how she was trying to change for the better. She needed to talk to someone objective; someone who did know what she was going through.

 

 

LITTLEMERMAID: Are you online? I need some advice.

SOLOJEDI: Yeah, I’m here. What’s up?

LITTLEMERMAID: Do you think it’s wrong to do the right thing if it’s for selfish reasons?

SOLOJEDI: I think it depends on what the right thing is and what the selfish thing is. Everything is circumstance.

LITTLEMERMAID: The right thing is making someone very happy. The selfish thing is that I’m really only doing it to make _myself_ happy.

SOLOJEDI: Would now be a good time to tell you I’m not exactly the picture of morality? I can be kind of a jerk sometimes. 

LITTLEMERMAID: You’re the only one I can talk to about this, and I value your opinion. What would you do in this situation?

SOLOJEDI: Hm. If I were in a situation where I could make someone happy, I would do it. If it also happened to benefit me in the process, so be it. It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there. We gotta take our happiness where we can get it.

LITTLEMERMAID: You should be a motivational speaker.

SOLOJEDI: You just caught me on a good day.

LITTLEMERMAID: I don’t think so. You’ve been great to talk to all semester.

SOLOJEDI: Speaking of which, how is your paper going?

LITTLEMERMAID: Wow, you really haven’t learned anything about me after all this time, have you?

SOLOJEDI: …you already finished it, didn’t you.

LITTLEMERMAID: Of course. I finished last week. How is yours coming?

SOLOJEDI: If there is a king of interpersonal communication essays that includes the application of key terminology and concepts from previous research groups, it is me.

LITTLEMERMAID: And what makes it even better is how humble you are about it. I can’t believe the semester is ending already. I’ll miss talking to you.

SOLOJEDI: I’ve been thinking about that a lot as I finish up this paper, and what if we just… kept talking?

LITTLEMERMAID: Like reveal our identities and exchange numbers and all that?

SOLOJEDI: I mean, that would be cool, don’t get me wrong. But I’ve been kind of digging this anonymous emailing. We seem to flow rather nicely. 

LITTLEMERMAID: And meeting in person could change that. What if we don’t click or something now that the semester is over and the rules no longer apply? It would ruin this whole thing. I’d hate to lose… this. Whatever this is.

SOLOJEDI: My thoughts exactly. Well now that that’s settled, did my advice help you make up your mind?

LITTLEMERMAID: It did! I’m going to do what I can to make someone else happy. That can’t possibly be a bad idea, right?

 

 

 

It had been a horrible idea for Lydia to go to the wedding.

Things had started out fine; the ceremony was lovely, and the dress she’d bought for the occasion was to die for. She’d actually been a little self-conscious about it when Stiles picked her up. She thought it was perfect, but his expression when she opened her door seemed like a mixture of bewilderment and just pure shock. 

“What?” she asked, looking down at herself as her hands tried to smooth out the fabric a little more. “Do you think it’s too much? Or not enough?”

He snapped out of it and was finally able to look her in the eyes. He smiled like he had just won the lottery. “I think you look beautiful.”

She stopped fidgeting, frozen to the spot. “Really?”

He answered by holding out his arm for her. Lydia grabbed it and they left for the church. 

Like she said, it had _started out_ perfectly fine. She sat with Kira as Stiles and Scott stood with Sheriff Stilinski as his “Best Men” and the four of them had even taken some pictures with the rest of the party.

But then came the reception, and as soon as she downed _one_ glass of champagne she started getting sad about Jackson again. Everyone at her table chatted around her, but she just sat there in a daze. The only thing that had made her crack a smile was Stiles’ admittedly hilarious speech.

Speaking of Stiles, if he was bummed at what a boring date she had turned out to be, he made a noble effort of not letting it show. All night he tried to include her in the conversations and introduced her to guests that came up to talk to him. It always went the same way:

“You have a dog, right? My friend Lydia has this little, like, six pound dog.”

Insert a nod from Lydia.

“I’ve heard Paris is beautiful. Lydia is actually fluent in French.”

Insert a small smile from Lydia.

“Oh you’re an eye doctor? Is it true that only 2% of the population has green eyes? Lydia actually does. Isn’t that cool?”

Insert a shrug from Lydia.

Even when she didn’t even bother to acknowledge that a conversation was taking place, Stiles jumped in to keep it moving so no one had time to notice that she was actually being rather rude. He did it all night: allowed her to be miserable while he protected her from everyone’s judgment.

It wasn’t until he plucked up the courage to ask her to dance that he finally got annoyed with her.

Everyone had gotten up from the table except for the two of them. They sat in silence until Stiles perked up, energized with a sudden burst of confidence, and asked, “You want to dance?” 

Lydia didn’t even give it a second thought. “Pass.”  
  
He stood up, looking determined. “You know what? Let me try that again. Lydia, get off your cute Iittle ass and dance with me now.”

She gave it a second thought that time, almost impressed at his attempt. Still, though, she was in no mood. “Interesting tactic. I'm gonna stick with no.”

“Lydia, get up, okay?” he said, without skipping a beat. “You're gonna dance with me. I don’t care that you’ve been miserable all night or that you would clearly rather be doing anything else with anyone else. I don’t. Lydia, I've had a crush on you since the day I met you. And I know that somewhere inside that cold, Iifeless exterior there's an actual human soul. And I'm also pretty sure that I'm the only one who knows how smart you really are. And that once you're done pretending being a nitwit, you'II eventually go off and write some insane mathematical theorem that wins you the Nobel Prize.” 

Lydia Martin was not easily surprised, especially by boys. She knew all of their tricks, listened to how pretty they thought she was and laughed as they tried to flirt with her. But this… this was very different. This had nothing to do with her new dress or how perfectly she had done her makeup. Stiles had noticed her, the her that she thought she was doing a pretty good job of hiding. And she was stunned. 

“Fields Medal,” she blurted out, unsure why that was the part of his speech that her mind remembered the most clearly.

“What?” he asked after a moment. Both his voice and his expression gave away that he, too, was stunned.

She wasn’t sure which part of their interaction had shocked him the most, but seeing him like that seemed to snap Lydia out of her own haze. She cleared her throat, stood up, and walked right up to him. Stiles’ mouth was still hanging open, and Lydia’s confidence had suddenly returned. She was back in her comfort zone. 

“Nobel doesn't have a prize for mathematics. The Fields Medal's the one I'II be winning.”

She grabbed his hand to lead him onto the dance floor, and something changed. It wasn’t too obvious, it wasn’t spoken aloud, but Lydia had gained respect for the boy she used to not think about at all.

 

 

 

They got back to campus so late that it was basically sunrise. It was completely silent except for the roar of the Jeep’s idle engine. Even Kira and Scott weren’t around; they’d decided to sleep at their own houses since they were already nearby. Lydia wanted to sleep in her dorm, though, so that she could wake up and finish some final papers. As soon as she said she was going to call an Uber, Stiles dug his keys out of his pocket and slapped her phone away before she could schedule a pick up. Then he apologized profusely for doing that.

“Hey, why didn’t you drink tonight, anyway?” Lydia asked as Stiles pulled up to her dorm building.

“I didn’t need it tonight,” he said simply.

She knew what he meant. He didn’t need anything to make the night more fun or to relax him. She was his date, and that was all he needed.

He turned the engine off, and she surprised herself by not immediately reaching for the handle. Later, when she was thinking about it as she fell asleep, she would blame that on the alcohol.

“It’s Jackson, isn’t it?” Stiles blurted out. 

She looked over at him and tried to hide how sad and pathetic she felt. She nodded. 

He nodded back before looking down at his hands.

“I’m not an idiot. I know that you… I know he’s the one that…”

“Stiles.”

“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to-“ 

“I was just going to say thank you for tonight.”

He searched her face for something. She wasn’t sure what, but a few moments later he let out a deep breath and smiled as he turned the car back on.

“You’re welcome, Lydia.” 

For the second time that night, things had changed. If Lydia had realized something earlier as she danced with him, Stiles had realized something at that moment in his car. She could see it on his face now: acceptance.

Lydia didn’t know what that meant for their _acquaintanceship_ , but as she got out of the car and walked up to her dorm, she couldn’t help but hope that it didn’t just come to an end.


	11. Chapter 11

January 10TH

 

 

Stiles’ favorite part of the holidays used to be when they were over. 

Not in a pessimistic way; he always liked them. Getting presents, not having school, sleeping all day and hanging out with his friends wasn’t the worst deal in the world. It was just that that time of year was always an obvious reminder that his mom wasn’t around and that his family was missing a giant piece to their small puzzle.

This year was different, though. His family felt complete for the first time in years. Him and his dad were now living with Scott and Melissa. It wasn’t perfect, and it was very different from the holidays he had growing up, but it was what he needed.

So on the drive back to school, Stiles wasn’t his usual happy self. He missed being home with his family, even though Scott was roughly two feet away in the passenger seat of his jeep.

“Dude, this sucks. I don’t want to go back.” 

“Yeah, I was just thinking that. But, hey, at least you have something to look forward to once you’re back on campus.” When Scott looked confused, Stiles laughed and pushed him with the hand that wasn’t holding the steering wheel. “Um, Kira? Beautiful, funny Kira? Black hair, often found with her hand in yours? Ringing any bells?”

“Shut up, I knew who you meant. I just haven’t talked to her at all over break.” 

“At all?”

“Not even once. I was gonna text her the first night I got home, but that seemed too pushy. Then I decided to wait for _her_ to text _me_ , but that never happened. Then I was gonna call-“

“Yeah, this recap isn’t as exciting as you think it is,” Stiles interrupted as he pulled up to a red light. “You gonna go see her when we get there?”

“Yeah. It’ll probably be awkward, though. I haven’t seen her in person since-“

“Right now?” Stiles asked, as he nodded his head in the direction behind Scott where a blue car had just pulled up, reminding him that there were some good things about going back to school. He saw Lydia’s strawberry blond hair in the driver’s seat, and Kira was laughing right next to her. For a moment, the world seemed to slow down, and everything was just… _good._ The moment shattered quickly as Scott lowered his seat so that he was practically laying flat and ducking below the window.

“Oh, my God. Can we just drive please, Stiles?”

Stiles had clearly underestimated how awkward it would be for two people who were practically dating last semester to see each other after weeks of not talking, but his father was a cop, and also Scott was being pretty dramatic.

“Scott, it's a red light! And anyway, I think we should talk to her. We should say something.”

  
Scott looked at him as if he had just suggested they torch the car and make a run for it. “No. No, no, Stiles, come on.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes and tried to reach over his friend to manually roll down the passenger side window of his ancient jeep.  
  
“Oh, my God, dude, no-“  
  
“Hey!” Stiles called, completely oblivious to how uncomfortable Scott, Kira, and even Lydia appeared to be. He didn’t have time to comprehend that it was a bad idea to try to talk because in that exact moment, Lydia hit the gas and sped away through the intersection and the red light. “You know, they probably didn’t see us.”

Approximately one second later, however, the light turned green, and Stiles drove off in the same direction.

“What are you doing?” Scott asked.

“I'm driving.”  
  
“We're right behind them.”

Stiles was getting tired of all of the obvious questions and answers. “Okay, well, do you see any turns?” he asked, gesturing to the straight road ahead of them, woods surrounding them on both sides. 

“I don't want it to look like we're following them.”  
  
“Well, what do you want me to do?” 

“I don't know! Anything!”

Their argument was cut short as Lydia had come to a complete stop just a few yards away, and the boys saw broken glass and a deer running off the road. Stiles slammed on the brakes, and Scott was out of the car before it even came to a complete stop. He went straight for Kira while Stiles unconsciously ran to Lydia. 

“Are you hurt?”

“It came out of nowhere!” Lydia said, her voice uncharacteristically shaky. Stiles grabbed her arm to steady her as she looked down at herself and then back at her car. “It ran right into us!”

He continued holding her arm and checking for blood or anything that might require medical attention. He saw nothing, but didn’t let go. Somewhere in another world, he heard Kira say that she was okay. 

“Well _I’m_ not okay!” Lydia yelled. “I am totally freaking out. How the hell does it just run into us?”

Kira and Scott went closer to the car to assess the damage but Stiles stayed back with Lydia and tried to get her to calm down. He was sure that she was being a little overdramatic and that he was being little overprotective, but it was instinct for both of them. After her breathing finally slowed and Kira offered to call the car towing company if Scott would speak to the police, Lydia agreed to sit down on the curb away from the frenzy.

“I saw its eyes right before it hit us,” she said after a few minutes of silence as she stared at the ground, unblinking. “It was like it was… like it was crazy.”

Stiles felt bad for her. He’d never been in a car accident, but he knew it would be even worse if he were the driver. He sat down next to her.

“Any animal would look kind of crazy if it was about to collide with a big bright machine going 40 miles an hour in the middle of the night,” he offered.

“I know that. I just… It was scary.”

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me that. When no one was looking, I threw up by that tree over there. And I wasn’t even a part of the car accident. I was literally in a whole other car.” 

And then something extraordinary happened.

Lydia laughed at him. Like, really laughed. And after that, nothing seemed so bad anymore.

 

 

 

 

SOLOJEDI: Well hello. Long time no talk.

LITTLEMERMAID: I know. It’s been, what? 2 days?

SOLOJEDI: If that. Man, you would not stop blowing my phone up all break.

LITTLEMERMAID: You’re one to talk, Mr. I’m-Friendly-And-So-Good-At-Conversation-That-It’s-Impossible-To-Stop-Talking.

SOLOJEDI: Your insults cut deep, Miss I’m-So-Incredibly-Smart-And-Witty-That-Others-Feel-The-Need-To-Seek-Me-Out-For-My-Opinion-On-Everything.

LITTLEMERMAID: Ouch. Speaking of opinions, though, what are your thoughts on school clubs?

SOLOJEDI: In high school, I thought of extracurricular activities as a time-consuming snooze fest. I woke up, went to school, put in the bare minimum, and went home. However, in college, I’m thinking it might be good to branch out. 

LITTLEMERMAID: Exactly. I think the first semester I tried to just continue high school: my attitude, my friends, all of it. Now that I’m getting the hang of things, I also think I need to branch out. What clubs are you thinking?

SOLOJEDI: If we tell each other our clubs, we might be able to figure out who the other is, right?

LITTLEMERMAID: Good point. Maybe I’ll see you at sign ups. Or maybe I won’t.

 

 

 

Stiles was walking to his first meeting for the school newspaper with no expectations. He enjoyed writing, and he had the coordination of a tornado, keeping sports out of the question, so that seemed like the only place he could be somewhat successful.

He was deep in thought as he opened the door to the building’s lobby and was nearly knocked to the ground when he collided with someone walking in the opposite direction.

“Aw, come on. Right side you go in, left side you go out. It’s like the first thing you learn here at orientation!” he said to no one in particular as he looked around for the phone that had flown out of his hand.

When he saw it on the ground a little to his left, he realized that a girl was on the ground below him collecting her things. 

“I know, I know. I keep forgetting. I just transferred in. At my old school, we always just had automatic doors. Everyone went everywhere.”

“Oh, my God. No, don’t apologize,” Stiles said, suddenly feeling awful for how he had reacted. He knelt down and started gathering up papers that had fallen from the girl’s hands.

“I didn’t apologize,” she said bluntly.

He hadn’t even noticed, but looking back, he supposed she hadn’t apologized. Something about that fact and the look on her face made him smile.

“I’m Stiles,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Malia.” She shook his hand and stood up.

“You said you just transferred in – where are you from?” Stiles asked as he stood up and handed her her papers.

“The East coast,” she said distractedly while she continued organizing the contents that had just been replaced in her hands.

Stiles wondered if she would give him an answer less vague than that as he took in her appearance. She was dressed in shorts even though it was chilly outside. Her short hair was wavy, like she didn’t take the time to make it look as pretty as it did. 

“What are you staring at?” Malia asked, snapping Stiles out of his thoughts.

“Oh, I was just… Uh, nevermind. Where are you headed?” 

“Cafeteria. You?” 

“Meeting for the newspaper,” Stiles said, realizing they were headed in different directions. “Well, maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

Malia smiled and quickly grabbed his hand. It took him a moment to realize she was writing her phone number on his hand, something he hadn’t seen anyone do outside of movies.

“I’m sure you will.”

With that, she left him. Stiles decided Malia was strange, and he was intrigued.

He thought about the weird run-in with the cute girl as he walked to his classroom. When he got there, he took a seat in the last row and started talking to a few people around him that he recognized from last semester. 

It wasn’t until their meeting was about to start that he heard the desk next to him move. He turned to see that Lydia had taken the seat to his left.

Something about her was different, he noticed subconsciously. She didn’t walk in like she was better than everyone there. Her confidence was still apparent, though. It was just… simpler. 

“Hi, Stiles,” she said as she sat down and flashed him a quick smile.

He was a little stunned to see her, but he collected himself almost immediately. “Lydia, hey, I, uh… I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“I know. I’m just trying something new out. Stuff like this looks great on resumes, you know.” She started taking out her organized notebooks, looking much more like a businesswoman than a student. Stiles suddenly felt like an idiot beside her. 

“Hey, how is your car doing after that crazy deer thing?”

“Nothing my parents can’t pay to have fixed,” she said like money wasn’t something that would ever be an issue for her. “Not that it matters. I’m too freaked out to _ever_ drive again.”

Stiles was sure she was exaggerating as always, but the sincerity in her voice made him chuckle. “You need a jeep. You know, if Roscoe had gone first the deer wouldn’t have even tried-“ 

“Roscoe?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s my car. Doesn’t your car have a name?”

“No.”

They both looked at the other like they were crazy until their instructor called for attention.

“Alright, kids. Listen up. We’re all here today because we have an unquenchable thirst for keeping the written news cycle from being killed by the internet.”

“Aren’t you the football coach?” Stiles asked. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but he had a habit of not thinking before opening his mouth. 

“Ah, the sassy loudmouth I remember from sign-ups. Stilinski, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Coach Finstock,” Stiles answered with a large grin, already sensing an unlikely friendship with his instructor.

“Well, as our learned colleague pointed out,” he continued to the class, rolling his eyes as he did so, “I am in fact the football coach. To some people, that probably means I don’t know squat about running a newspaper or particularly care about the content it contains. And those people are correct. So the future of the paper is in all of your hands. I’ll be dividing up the sections, you’ll pick what interests you, we’ll meet twice a month to go over what you’ve got and the rest will be done on your own time. I have two rules: two people per section and your section is yours for the remainder of the semester.”

He turned to the whiteboard and started making a chart. Each division had a header that was the title of a different part of the newspaper. Stiles remained silent as most of the group jumped at the chance to write for fun topics, like entertainment and sports. He wasn’t interested in reviewing movies or talking about how the basketball team lost their 16th consecutive game. He wanted to be out there with a notepad, going under police tape and cracking open a case.

After most of the board was filled in, there was a lull until Lydia raised her hand. 

“Coach Finstock, Lydia Martin. I was hoping there might be a part of the paper devoted to investigative journalism.” She had a weird way of making it seem like a question, though it was obviously more of a friendly demand.

“Investigative journalism?” 

“Yes. It’s where writers could explore some of the campus’ unanswered questions. Why are food prices so high? Does the online library have more reliable resources than the physical one? What is the real reason the campus construction project wasn’t finished on time? Topics like that.”

“This could work, this could work,” Coach said as he scanned a paper on his desk. “It appears the only other person in our small group without a partner is the loudmouth. Stilinski, it would make things a lot easier if investigative journalism interested you.”

“Well-“

“Oh, here we go.”

“No, no, no. I think Lydia has a great point about answering the unanswered campus questions. I would just like to take it in a more… um, not-boring direction.”

“The retail-based structure of the cafeteria and its overall economical effect on the food and campus itself _is_ not-boring.” 

Stiles waved his arms quickly. “Right, exactly! But I was thinking of maybe investigating unsolved cases, rather than unanswered questions, you know? Things students will want to read about every issue.”

“Like a mystery series,” Lydia said. “Something they have to tune in to get more answers for.” 

“And rather than asking a new question every issue, we solve the same case all semester,” Stiles continued, turning to face Lydia now instead of Coach. 

Lydia leaned toward him, too, like it was just the two of them in a conversation rather than a class discussion. “It would have to be something that evokes passion.” 

“Something that gets people angry, something they’ll want to see from start to finish and get justice on.”

“Nothing gets these people angrier than the school rivalry.” 

“And the most frustrating part of the school rivalry is not knowing who it is who’s vandalizing our statues and jumping kids before games.”

“So we interview people from their school, maybe go over some security tapes, do some stake outs.”

“And write up a summary every month and give readers clues.”

“Maybe we’d even get tips along the way. And by the end, we’ll have the answer that the whole campus has been following along all semester for!”

“Exactly!”

“Right!”

There was an awkward silence as they each turned back around and realized the whole room had been staring at them. Coach Finstock was leaning his hands on the two desks in front of him, his mouth hanging open as he looked from Stiles to Lydia.

“So… investigative journalism it is, then?”

“Yes,” they said in unison.


	12. Chapter 12

January 23rd

 

 

LITTLEMERMAID: I don’t like one of my professors. 

SOLOJEDI: Why not?

LITTLEMERMAID: That’s the thing; I don’t even have a good reason. I just get a bad vibe from her.

SOLOJEDI: Fair enough. 

LITTLEMERMAID: Most people don’t think so. This happens kind of a lot. People tell me I need a specific reason not to like someone. But I’ve never been wrong before. 

SOLOJEDI: No, I get it. It’s like intuition. Something inside of you is telling you not to trust someone.

LITTLEMERMAID: Yes! Do you ever feel that way?

SOLOJEDI: Nah, I don’t get “vibes” from people. I’m just pretty skeptical of everyone at first. They have to prove themselves for me to like them.

LITTLEMERMAID: That’s ridiculous.

SOLOJEDI: Hey, I didn’t question you when you said you got vibes off of people that alert you to whether they’re bad.

LITTLEMERMAID: Yeah, but my way means that sometimes I immediately believe that someone is good. Your way means you dislike everyone you meet until they do something that impresses you.

SOLOJEDI: My way is why Harry Potter didn’t become friends with Draco Malfoy on his first day at Hogwarts.

LITTLEMERMAID: He didn’t become friends with Draco because he got a bad vibe from him!

SOLOJEDI: What are we even arguing about?

LITTLEMERMAID: I’m not sure. I just know I’m winning.

SOLOJEDI: So then tell me: what kind of vibe do you get from me?

LITTLEMERMAID: I get a Slytherin vibe from you. And I’m assuming you’re skeptical of me and have therefore labeled me as Voldemort? 

SOLOJEDI: You’re an exception to my way of judging people. I liked you from the start. And you’re a Ravenclaw.

 

Lydia couldn’t help but smile to herself as she shut her laptop. The thought of her online friend not liking most people but making an exception for her made her feel special. It wasn’t often that people’s compliments could make Lydia feel anything. She figured boys just told her whatever would get them in her pants and girls just wanted to be her friend to get invited to all the cool parties. All that ever mattered was that she knew she was special. But this time, she supposed he was her exception as well.

She was still smiling as she opened the door to her dorm to go get a coffee, and she jumped when she found Stiles standing there grinning like an idiot down at his phone. Well, he was until he realized the door had opened, and he clumsily jumped back three feet and banged into the wall behind him. 

“What are you doing?” Lydia practically screamed, dramatically clutching her heart.

“I was about to knock when-“

“What are you smiling at?”

“I’m not smiling.”

Lydia made a point of looking from his still smiling face down to the phone in his hand several times before answering, “Must be the lighting.” 

“Fine,” he said as he moved past her and sat down in Kira’s desk chair. “I was… I was just texting this girl… Some girl I met the other day on campus. I was texting her.” 

Lydia didn’t feel like pointing out that she could tell he was lying, so she just dropped it and shut the door.

“Do you know if our investigation goes beyond football?” she asked casually as she sat back down at her desk.

Stiles thought for a moment. “You mean are there incidents at other games?”

“Yeah, other sports, but also games that aren’t just at our campus. I think we need a few more answers before we can even begin to narrow down suspects.”

Stiles nodded and reached over to open Lydia’s laptop on her desk. She typed in her password and pulled up their school’s athletic page. Stiles leaned behind her as she scrolled down the page looking for a game they could easily attend.

“What are your thoughts on going on a little road trip?”

Lydia looked up at him. “Ooh, to where? Beverly Hills? Malibu?”

Stiles scratched his eyebrow and squinted. “Um, yeah, kind of like those places. It’s…Fairvale.”

“Freaky Fairvale?” Lydia practically yelled, using the nickname that had been associated with the town for as long as she could remember. Stiles jumped backwards as Lydia continued. “The place that houses the prison with the most escaped convicts? The place that has had so many unexplained phenomena that it is listed as one of the top scariest places in the country?” 

“Good, you’ve heard of it!”

“Stiles.”

“Just hear me out.”

She folded her arms across her chest as he leaned forward ready to sell his pitch.

“Okay, the game there is this weekend, and we are on a bit of a timetable here. After this, there isn’t an away game for weeks. And hearing about this from word of mouth isn’t going to do the trick, you know? We’re reporters now, we’re the investigators. We need to be there. Plus, maybe we’ll start to be able to put some names to faces, maybe recognize people we’ve seen attending multiple games.” 

He was making good points, Lydia knew. She thought about everything before nodding and adding quietly, “And we can’t just look any of this stuff up online since no one’s reporting anything because… well…”

“Because it’s humiliating beyond human comprehension to get beat up,” Stiles said.

Lydia remembered when she had gone to visit him after he got jumped and how upset he was. “I was going to say it’s because our campus security is a joke.” 

“Well, yeah, that too."

He tossed her a notebook as she tossed back their school directory to him, and they got to work.

 

 

 

Lydia talked to the basketball coach and found out there was one seat left on the bus. After she told him they were hoping to report on the game for the school newspaper, while conveniently forgetting to mention that the part they’d be reporting on was the school rivalry and not the actual game, he let them take the seat in the last row.

“So what if after all of this, we find out nothing actually happens at basketball games?” Stiles asked as he scooted in to take the window seat.

“We’ll be forced to do something horrible,” Lydia said, sitting down beside him by the aisle. “We’ll have to sit down and watch our school drastically lose yet another basketball game.” 

“Hey!” A student in the row in front of them turned around, offended. 

Lydia hadn’t meant for anyone to hear her insult, but she was never one to be scared away. She was about to point out that she had simply stated a factual prediction based on past patterns, but Stiles spoke up before she could.

“Come on, man. Is it really a secret you guys aren’t exactly going for the national title? Just be grateful you have any fans coming at all.”

The boy turned around, and Lydia smiled at Stiles for defending her.

“I hate basketball,” he said to her, quieter than they were speaking before. 

“Oh, please. I’ve seen your dorm. It’s covered with sports crap.”

Stiles raised his hands with frustration. “That is not _sports crap_. That’s _memorabilia_ , and it’s only for the Mets.”

Lydia was already bored with wherever this conversation was headed, but they still had an hour to go on the bus and her phone didn’t have any service. 

“The Mets? Aren’t they New York’s team?” she asked as she absentmindedly started twirling a piece of her hair between her fingers. 

“Well, yeah. But the Mets have this, like, magic about them,” he explained, his arms moving around wildly with passion. “They had one of the most famous postseason comebacks in baseball history in ’86 when Mookie Wilson’s ground ball got by Bill Buckner. Like, one of the greatest plays ever. You can’t find that heart on just any team. They’re the team for miracles.”

“Still, though. Shouldn’t you be a Dodgers fan? They’re California’s team.” 

To that, Stiles simply shrugged. “It would be too easy if we could pick the teams we love. The heart just wants what it wants.”

“I wonder if any other poets found their inspiration in deciding which baseball team to cheer for.”

Lydia leaned her head back and got comfortable as Stiles delved into an emotionally charged, in-depth explanation on why baseball goes much deeper than merely cheering for a team.

 

 

 

As soon as the bus stopped, Lydia knew something was wrong. Besides the fact that a thunderstorm had just passed and a fog had rolled in, the area definitely seemed weirder than usual. And it wasn’t just that the motel they expected to sleep in looked like it was taken straight from the movie Psycho; it was something more obvious, and yet, she couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Remember how this place is listed as _one of_ the top scariest places in the country?” Stiles asked as he followed her off the bus. “I think that was being way too generous.”

Lydia stepped onto the pavement and looked around. “Something isn’t right.”

“Just one thing? Because I’ve seen like, seven alarming things since we pulled up.”

Stiles kept talking, but Lydia’s mind was elsewhere. The team grabbed their bags from the side of the bus and headed inside to check in. Stiles asked if she was okay before walking away to get their bags while Lydia stood where she was and looked around.

It wasn’t anything she was seeing. It was another one of her senses that caught something. She closed her eyes to focus, trying to shut out the bus’ roaring engine. Something. It was definitely… something.

Suddenly, the bus started to pull away to park, and Lydia’s eyes snapped open as she realized what was off. She looked down at her feet and realized the ground wasn’t just wet from the thunderstorm, but at least half of the parking lot was covered in gasoline. And the bus was headed right for it, right where Stiles was now struggling to carry the bags.

“Stiles!” she screamed as loud as she could. But it wasn’t enough.

Everything that happened next seemed to be in slow motion. Stiles looked up at her, totally oblivious. Lydia ran for him. In retrospect, she remembered that there was fire in her peripheral vision, but in that moment, she only saw him.

“No!” she yelled in one last-ditch effort to stop the events from happening. The next thing she knew, she was on top of Stiles, and they were on the ground a few feet away from the blaze. 

For a moment, she was unable to think or feel anything but fear and adrenaline. Her body was frozen, and her mind was an impossible mix of quiet and chaos. All she could do was drop her head onto Stiles’ shoulder and grip his jacket.

“It’s okay. Hey, we’re fine. We’re okay, Lydia,” she heard him say quietly as he gently moved his head to the side to look up at her. She remembered where she was and quickly got off of him, and they both sat up next to each other.

Stiles looked around at the mayhem that was happening all around him as the coach and the motel workers put out the remains of the fire. Lydia could feel him shaking next to her, or maybe it was her who was shaking.

“How did you know that was gonna happen?”

She was still in a daze as she spoke. She wasn’t sure she was even blinking. “I just smelled the gasoline.”

“That was really smart,” he said, amazed.

And then they just continued sitting there next to each other. People came up to ask them what happened, and one of them would explain everything. Then someone would ask if they needed medical attention and the other would take their turn to speak. It was all a blur. Lydia didn’t pay attention to anyone in the crowd of people who were dealing with the aftermath. The only thing she was sure of was that Stiles was right beside her.

Finally when things had quieted down, and everyone went back to their regular lives, the basketball coach walked over to them.

“Well, it’s been one hell of a crazy night, so you kids ought to check into your rooms and get some sleep,” he said.

Stiles nodded, only half listening.

“We’re going to sit here for a little while longer, if that’s alright with you. We need some fresh air before we head in there,” Lydia said, gesturing to the motel. She was still in shock, but she didn’t want any more people crowding around them asking if they were hurt so she did her best to keep her voice leveled.

The coach still looked hesitant, but he cleared his throat and started backing away. “Whatever you need. Just make sure you do get some sleep. We got a big game tomorrow!” 

Once the door closed to the motel, and they were finally alone, Lydia let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding in.

“Coach isn’t so great at the sensitive stuff,” she laughed, trying to make light of things. “I guess he’s just more comfortable yelling on the basketball-“

“Thank you,” Stiles cut her off. “Did I say that yet? Thank you. You saved my life.”

Lydia waved her hands and stood up quickly. “Oh, don’t mention it. No big deal. Anyone would have done the same.”

“No, don’t do that. It _was_ a big deal.” He got to his feet, too. “Not everyone would have been brave enough to do that. You could have… you could’ve gotten hurt, you know?”

Lydia just held his eye contact but didn’t speak. Her mind was deep in thought about when he had gotten to be so tall. She was almost positive when she had met him she was looking down at him a little or they were at least on an even level. But now, even in high heels, she was looking up at him. 

“Lydia?” 

She didn’t realize he had been talking. She shook her head to snap out of her thoughts.

“Sorry, I was just thinking… What do you think the chances are that there’s a murderer in that motel?”

“Oh, that’s a guarantee. I’m surprised that’s not part of their greeting- “Hello, you’ve reached Motel Glen Capri. We happily welcome escaped convicts and offer absolutely no security. How long will you be staying with us?”

She laughed and felt some of her tension dissolve. “There’s no way I’m getting any sleep in there tonight. I’m getting back on the bus.” 

She walked around him and took exactly six steps before she heard him run to catch up with her.

“Yeah, I mean... there’s probably like a 30% less chance of getting murdered sleeping on the bus, so…”

They walked to the back of the bus and took their seats. Stiles leaned his head against the window and was asleep within minutes. After struggling for awhile to get comfortable but refusing to move to her own seat because truth be told she was still a little freaked out sleeping on a bus in the middle of nowhere, Lydia leaned her head against Stiles and slept until morning.


	13. Chapter 13

January 29th

 

 

Malia got out of bed and sat on the floor of her dorm trying to put together an outfit for the day. 

“I still don’t understand how ending some longstanding rivalry has become your responsibility.”

They had been having the same discussion last night that they had been for a week. Malia was fine with Stiles staying overnight in a scary town with the basketball team. She didn’t mind him spending so much time with Lydia because she wasn’t the jealous type. She barely batted an eye when he mentioned that he’d probably have to break some school rules along the way. Everything had been fine until he mentioned that the rivalry had become personal when he had been jumped before a football game. That’s when Malia’s animal-like protectiveness had kicked in.

“What time is it? The alarm didn’t even go off yet,” Stiles groaned.

“I hit snooze like, 50 times. Why can’t campus security just deal with all of this?”

“Because,” Stiles started for what felt like the hundredth time as he rolled over to look at her. “No one is reporting anything. It would be like the police trying to solve a case based off of rumors: not worth the time or energy.”

“But it’s worth yours?” she asked as she pulled a shirt over her head.

 “It’s not like I’m getting paid to do this, or like I’m ignoring other cases that are life or death.”

“You don’t _have_ any other cases.”

“Exactly!”

She rolled her eyes and stood up to put a pair of shorts on. “And you’re doing all of this with your friend?”

“Yeah, two minds are better than one. It’s the buddy system. She splits the work with me.” It was quiet for a second before realization hit him. “Did you say you’ve been hitting the snooze button?”

“Yeah. You’re already running late.”

He groaned some more into the pillow before rolling over and finding Malia hovering above him. 

“Is what you’re doing dangerous?” 

Stiles reached up and moved a piece of hair from her face. “I wish. That would make me feel like Batman. But for what it’s worth, it’s very endearing that you’re worried about me. You’re usually so…”

“So _what_?” 

“You know… not worried about other people.”

A smile crept onto her face. “You’re not other people.” She leaned down and kissed him quickly before jumping off the bed and grabbing her toiletry bag. “Be back in ten.”

 

 

Soon after, they walked together to Stiles’ dorm, a place he hadn’t seen much of lately. He had forgotten his laptop and Malia was headed in that direction anyway. When they got there, she casually opened the door as if she’d known him and Scott her whole life.

“Where’s Kira?” she asked as Stiles headed for his desk. 

“She went down to the bathroom to do her makeup,” Scott told her as he finished writing some notes in his notebook.

Malia left as quickly as she came, and Stiles sat on his bed.

“So what are you guys doing here? You’ve spent every morning at your girlfriend’s house recently.”

“Forgot my laptop. I need it to- my girlfriend?”

“Well, yeah. You guys have been having sleepovers and eating all your meals together and texting constantly whenever you’re apart… What else would you call her?”

Stiles hadn’t even thought about it, to be honest. It had happened very quickly. They never had a talk or made a conscious decision to start dating, but somewhere along the way, they had become a couple. Stiles figured it was because he had been so busy lately, and Malia wasn’t really the type to have big emotional conversations. They just had fun together. He liked her very much. 

“Yeah… Yeah I guess I’d call her my girlfriend.”

Scott looked like he was thinking about something else. Stiles knew what it was; he knew Scott like the back of his hand. And Scott knew him better than anyone in the world. And Scott was wondering about Lydia. 

Stiles couldn’t blame him, obviously. Last semester he was crazy about her. Like, borderline obsessed. Okay, maybe not borderline. He thought she was the most amazing person in the world; everyone else was a dull glow, and she was the sun. And now… Well, he told her how he felt, and nothing happened. He just had to accept that. She would never see him as anything more than just some stupid kid chasing after her.

But Malia did see him. And she made him happy. And that was good enough for him. He smiled, and Scott nodded and smiled back, and they left it at that.

Again, Malia hitting snooze all morning popped back into his head, and Stiles remembered he was going to be late for class if he didn’t leave soon. He stuffed his laptop in his backpack and hurried a goodbye to Scott before running out the door. As soon as it slammed behind him, he found himself a few feet away from Malia and Lydia, who appeared to have gotten off on the wrong foot.

“Who the hell are you?” Malia asked, probably stepping too close to Lydia for it to be considered friendly. 

“No, sweetie, who the hell are _you_?”

Stiles quickly jumped in between them and grabbed Malia’s hand to pull her close to him and away from Lydia.

“Malia this is my friend Lydia. Lydia this is my girlfriend Malia. So, there you go. We’re all buddies here, right?” he laughed nervously.

Lydia looked between the two of them and smiled so big that Stiles couldn’t tell if it was fake or not.

“Right, yeah, of course. Nice to meet you,” she said to Malia.

“Yeah… you too.”

The initial annoyance surrounding the two girls was quickly replaced by an awkward silence.

“Well, I was just on my way to see Scott. He has a homework question,” Lydia told them, starting to back away towards the dorm room. 

“Yeah, totally. I’m just on my way out the door anyway. Class, you know?” Stiles said, backing up in the opposite direction towards the elevator. Malia got there before him and pressed the “down” button. The doors opened immediately and they both stepped inside. “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you afterwards to go over newspaper stuff, right?” 

Lydia gave him a small smile, but all they could do at that point was hold eye contact for a quick moment before the doors to the elevator closed.

 

  

After class, Stiles found Lydia leaning against the wall outside of the library. Gone from her face was the strange look she had when he stepped on the elevator. It was replaced with raised eyebrows and a tight lipped grinned.

“So Malia’s very…” she said to him as he approached her.

“Blunt?” he tried to finish for her as they started walking together. He was following her lead as usual.  
  
“I was thinking of another B word.” 

“Hey! She’s not from around here. She’s from the east coast. She’s a city girl. Us Californians are a lot friendlier and more chill than she’s used to, I guess.” He paused to look over at Lydia, and then added, “Well, most of us are, at least.”

Lydia considered his words and must have decided she wasn’t offended because she just shrugged. “Anyways, I got bored with psychopharmacology last night so for fun I did some research into the psychology behind the recurring criminal acts of offenders with-”

“That’s so weird, I did the same thing last night,” Stiles said sarcastically.

“Shut up. As I was saying, I realized we can’t just look at random games in football and basketball and expect to find answers. We need to find a pattern.” 

“So how do we do that? We need at least 3 focuses because 2 are just a coincidence.” 

“That’s what I was thinking!” She turned down some stairs that headed for the school parking lot. “So, we need to see which students have a pattern of suspicious behavior, like being out past curfew and stuff.” 

“So you want to break into their records office.” 

She held up a finger. “I did not say break in.”

“It was strongly implied.”

 He realized they had stopped in front of his car. “Oh, I have to be the getaway driver on your diabolical mission?” Stiles asked as they both got in.

“My car is making a funny noise,” she told him as she put her seatbelt on. “And you’re not the getaway driver. You’re just driving us to the school where we will decide what to do upon arrival.”

 

 

A half hour later, to no one's surprise, Stiles found himself about ten feet away from the fire alarm.

Lydia had made a solid argument for needing to look through those files, but they’d both realized on the car ride over that when it came to plotting and scheming she wasn’t exactly an evil mastermind. (“Maybe we won’t even have to break the rules. I’ll just be extra nice to the office administrator and ask politely.” “That’s adorable, Lydia, but also probably the dumbest th- Ow! You shouldn’t hit someone when they’re operating a vehicle!”) So Stiles had quickly thrown something together: he’d pull the alarm right after classes let out when the hallway was chaotic anyway, Lydia would use that distraction to go through the files, and Stiles would immediately run to his car to have the engine ready and waiting when Lydia was done.

Fool proof, right?

Stiles wasn’t so much confident in the plan as he was in Lydia’s intuition, so for better or for worse, he walked confidently up to the fire alarm, waited for the best possible moment, and pulled it. He backed away quickly, careful not to leave the scene suspiciously fast or even too slow. However, as soon as he turned his back to start heading in the right direction, he nearly collided with a very important looking man in a suit who also appeared very pissed off.

"I'm guessing you're the Dean," Stiles said, accepting his fate.

"Good guess. My office. Now."

Stiles followed him past the office administrator's desk and found at least some solace in the fact that Lydia was nowhere to be found. Only one of them had gotten caught.

“You’re lucky I watched you pull the alarm and was able to call the fire department to tell them it was an accident," the Dean said as they each took a seat. "If they’d come all the way down here you’d be in a lot of trouble.”

“And my gratitude for that good luck is worth more than any punishment?” Stiles tried.

“Wrong. You have a school ID on you? I don’t recognize you from here so I’m assuming you drove all this way hoping to get a stupid prank in before some sports game, right?” 

Stiles found his ID in his pants pocket. There was no use in trying to get out of this now. 

The man studied the card before glancing at him. “That’s a bit of a drive. You might be able to lighten the punishment if you tell me who came here with you.”

“There’s no one to tell you about, sir,” Stiles said without a moment’s hesitation. “It’s my Jeep out there in the parking lot. I drove myself here while my friends went to class. I figured it’d be a funny story. It was dumb, though. It’s just some school rivalry crap, right? I mean… stuff. I’m sorry for pulling the alarm.”

 

 

An eternity later when he got to the parking lot, Lydia was already sitting in the car with the windows down. He got in the front seat and she handed him his keys without a word. In fact, it stayed silent until they reached the highway.

“What did the Dean say?” she asked so quietly that the sound of the wind nearly overpowered it.

“Nothing really. He took my ID and talked to my advisor. I should be getting an email soon, I guess.”

He didn’t ask because he could already tell from her mood that it was unsuccessful on her end, too, but she told him regardless.

“The records file had a passcode. I couldn't get in. I'm sorry.”

He wanted to tell her it was fine. They have to be wrong a few times so they know for sure when they’re right. He wanted to say that if nothing else, at least now they have a better idea of the school layout in case they need to go back. He wanted to just tell her it was fine, everything would be fine, they were both fine. But he knew it wouldn’t help anything.

His phone vibrated with a new email. They both looked down at it sitting in the car cup holder. Neither of them said a word.

 

 

They walked up to his dorm room in more silence. Stiles wondered if he was making things better by letting her have some peace and quiet or worse because maybe she needed a distraction. 

He was about to say something about a Game of Thrones theory he'd been working on but then he remembered he had an email on his phone. He looked at it as they walked and afterwards he didn't really feel like talking either.

When they got there, Lydia collapsed on his bed, and Stiles headed straight for the board he used to organize all of the clues and suspects they had about the case. He realized he didn’t have anything new to update it with, so he just stood there staring at it for a while.

“What do the different colored strings mean?” Lydia asked eventually, referring to yarn he’d used to connect certain pictures. He hadn’t noticed that she had been watching him.

“Oh, just different stages of the investigation,” he explained. “So green is solved, yellow is to be determined, blue's just… pretty,” he shrugged.

“What does red mean?”

“Unsolved.”  
  
“You only have red on the board.”  
  
He turned around to look at her so that his sarcasm wouldn’t go unnoticed. “Yes, I'm aware. Thank you.”

“Did you get written up for pulling the alarm?”

“Yep. I have a meeting with my advisor every day this week. She’ll probably just give me a slap on the wrist or a written notice or something. It's okay, though. We were onto something.” 

“Even though we couldn’t even get into the school records file?” 

Something in her voice made him turn around again, but this time he actually _saw_ her. She was… sad, which wasn’t something he was used to with Lydia. Angry, sure. Pretending to be fine, absolutely. But never vulnerable, never not bothering to cover anything up. 

“Hey, Lydia,” he said as he walked over to her and knelt down on the ground in front of where she lay on her stomach. “You’ve been right about everything in this case so far, okay? You got us to that basketball game last week, and now we know this rivalry goes beyond the football teams. So don’t start doubting yourself now.” 

She looked him right in the eye and spoke softly. “No new suspect. No new leads to follow. And I got you in trouble.”

Stiles would have given anything to never hear her sound that upset ever again. He looked down and noticed she was wrapping a strand of red string around her finger so tightly that it was loosing color. He grabbed it and started unraveling it. 

“Okay, look. Our suspects are in those files. All right? You knew it. You were right. Okay? And look, if you wanted to, I’d go back to that school right now and try every combination of passwords in the world just to prove it.”

He really meant it. He could feel his car keys in his pocket, and he knew if she said the word, he’d be driving 30 miles away to get to that school for the second time in one day.

But then she smiled and looked away and he knew she was back.

Right then, the door swung open, and Malia came walking in the way she always did, with a bit of a skip in her step. Stiles did a double take, and then, for some reason, jumped back and stood up away from Lydia, who quickly sat up and got off of his bed.

“Hey guys, are you still working on this thing?” she asked, pulling her phone out to check the time.

“Uh, no actually, we’re about finished up for today. We were just organizing some of our evidence.”

“Yeah I was just getting ready to leave,” Lydia said, her voice showing no signs that she had been upset mere seconds ago. 

“Did you make any progress today?” Malia asked as she lay down in the spot where Lydia had previously been. 

Lydia opened her mouth to answer, no doubt to say it had been a failure, but Stiles cut her off to stop her from insulting herself.

“Yeah, definitely got a good start on some leads.”

Lydia nodded, Malia smiled, and an uncomfortable silence followed until Lydia cleared her throat.

“Well, like I said, I was just going. Hey, I was thinking, since Kira’s always sleeping over here, and I assume you’re sleeping over…” she gestured to Malia rather than say her name. “It would probably make more sense to keep this board in my dorm. It’s pretty empty over there with just me so there’s lots of room.” 

“Oh, are you sure? You don’t mind carrying it back?”

“No problem. It wouldn’t make sense for you to have to keep coming back here on account of me and the newspaper. You just stay at your… girlfriend’s place, and this will be with me.” She looked and sounded more awkward than he had ever seen her. He looked over at Malia, who was staring at Lydia like she was an alien.

“We can leave it here for the night, if you want. I can just bring it over tomorrow.”

“No, no, no,” Lydia said quickly as she picked it up. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just… be on my way.” The board banged into the door, and Lydia’s purse fell off her shoulder. Stiles tried to walk over and help but she was gone in one messy instant.

 

 

 

LITTLEMERMAID: So then the sales lady said I could probably find the shade I was looking for at their other location, which is like 25 minutes away.

SOLOJEDI: Probably a bad sign that she said “probably,” right?

LITTLEMERMAID: Yes! I skipped lunch, sat in traffic, emptied my gas tank…. And the other location didn’t even have it!

SOLOJEDI: This is the biggest tragedy I’ve read since Hamlet. 

LITTLEMERMAID: I know! Luckily, that mall had several other makeup stores, so I ended up finding it there anyway. 

SOLOJEDI: Woah, plot twist! This story has a happy ending?!

LITTLEMERMAID: Your sarcasm is superfluous. If you’re that bored, all you had to do was say something.

SOLOJEDI: I’m not bored. I am quite entertained, actually.

LITTLEMERMAID: How? We are talking about absolutely nothing. I’m almost bored just reading what I’m sending you.

SOLOJEDI: Yeah, but boring things are kind of fun when I’m talking to you.

LITTLEMERMAID: See? You drive me crazy with your sarcasm and then pull me right back with your sincerity. It’s not fair. But if you had fun hearing about my lipstick fiasco, wait until I tell you what happened at the smoothie shop afterwards.


	14. Chapter 14

February 4th

 

 

“Have you ever been jealous of anyone?”

“Yeah,” Kira answered like it was no big deal, like being jealous of someone wasn’t the worst, most embarrassing thing to ever experience.

The two girls were hanging out in the student lounge. They liked going there in the mornings when the rest of campus was either asleep or in class. Mostly because it was bigger than their dorm and the TV had more channels than the cheap one they bought for their room, but it also came in handy for important conversations that simply could not be shared via text.

“I haven’t,” Lydia told her.

“Oh, okay. Well thanks for that. But yeah, I figured. I mean, look at you. Look at your life. You’ve kind of got it made, babe.”

Lydia smiled and rolled her eyes at her friend. “I meant I’ve never been jealous _before_. But now, I’m kind of… I feel very, very… territorial.”

“Of what?”

Lydia bit her lip, and Kira’s face lit up.

“Or should I say, of _who_?”

“No one! It’s nothing! Just… someone who used to give me attention 100% of the time now has someone else to focus on. And I’m just a tiny bit going out of my mind about it.”

“You’re seriously going to be that vague about it?” 

“I don’t want to put you in the terrible situation of knowing something you can’t tell anyone.” She looked at Kira sympathetically, and her friend sighed and nodded understandingly.

“Fine. So you’re experiencing jealousy for the first time in your life. What can I help you with?”

She groaned and threw her head back to look up at the ceiling. “How do I make it go away?”

Kira laughed. “Well, if you’re only jealous of the attention, it’s no big deal. There will always be someone new to come around and chase after you. But if this is actually about _who_ was giving you that attention…”

Lydia abruptly stood up and grabbed her purse. “It’s not. Forget I said anything. I’m late for a newspaper thing, gotta go.”

She did not care about Stiles or his attention or whom he was giving it to. This was not about him. She would give it no more thought than that. All she needed was someone new to chase after her and call her and want her around - a _distraction_.

She looked around the campus courtyard, and her eyes landed on a tall, tan twin. Well, two twins actually. But one was decidedly not interested in her. The other, however, was visibly checking out every female with a pulse. Lydia closed the distance between them, her high heels announcing her entrance.

“I’m Lydia Martin,” she said confidently as she flipped her hair and puckered her lips.

“Aiden,” was all he said as he looked her up and down with a cocky look on his face.

“Well, Aiden, today is your lucky day.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because like I said,” she smiled, walking a few steps and gesturing for him to follow, “I’m Lydia Martin.”

 

 

A few hours, a coffee date and two hot make out sessions later Lydia was driving back to campus by herself. She told Aiden it would be best if he took a cab back because she wanted to remain as unattached as possible. That had all sounded much better before smoke started coming out from under the hood of her car, and she was forced to pull over on the side of the road all by herself with no clue what to do.

She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel for 3 whole seconds while she contemplated trying to figure out the problem by herself before she Googled the car towing company and dialed the number. 

After ten minutes of trying – and failing – to describe what the problem was, the phone operator told her all she could do was sit and wait for the nearest tow truck to become available, which, because it was rush hour, would take at least an hour.

 

LITTLEMERMAID: Any chance you’re around to entertain me? I have an hour to kill, and I’m already slipping into a coma I’m so bored. 

SOLOJEDI: Lucky for you I am just finishing up some math homework, so I am at your service. Why do you have an hour to kill? Waiting for your next class?

LITTLEMERMAID: I wish. No, my car broke down. I’m waiting for a tow truck. 

SOLOJEDI: What’s wrong with it? Can you fix it yourself?

LITTLEMERMAID: Um, I actually didn’t do too well with the mechanic portion of the SATs. I haven’t even gotten out of the car to check.

SOLOJEDI: What?! Don’t you want to help it?!

LITTLEMERMAID: Oh, right. I forgot how weird you are about your own car.

SOLOJEDI: If by weird you mean head-over-heals in love, than yes, I suppose I am “weird”. Come on, I’m invested now! Just lift up the hood. Bring your phone.

LITTLEMERMAID: Okay. I lifted the hood. I see lots and lots of smoke.

SOLOJEDI: Great start! Now, can you determine where the smoke is coming from? Is it flowing from one of the sides or more in the middle?

LITTLEMERMAID: It’s coming from the front. Definitely not the sides, more in the middle.

SOLOJEDI: I know you’re not into this, but FYI you just eliminated like, 4 possible problems.

LITTLEMERMAID: That’s pretty impressive, if I do say so myself.

SOLOJEDI: Okay moving on, what’s around the area where the smoke is coming from?

LITTLEMERMAID: I see a fan. That’s what’s separating it from the engine thing.

SOLOJEDI: Sounds like the radiator. Do you see a hose off to the side? It’s like a tube attached to a plastic container.

LITTLEMERMAID: Yeah, I see that!

SOLOJEDI: Great. You can fix this. Step one: do you have any duct tape?

 

 

 

Stiles and Lydia were annoyed with each other.

Which, by the way, was annoying in itself because there once was a time when Stiles was incapable of being annoyed with her. He would agree with whatever she said, follow whatever orders she gave him and smile while doing it. Of course Lydia preferred things as they were now, him being her friend rather than her fan, but it was times like these where she longed for that eager-to-please boy she met the first day of school.

Obviously, him being Stiles and all, he didn’t outright say he was annoyed with her, like Jackson would have. He didn’t even yell. He just pursed his lips and countered everything she said.

“This doesn’t seem so bad,” he said as they walked down an eerily quiet and dimly lit hallway.

“It’s not the school, it’s the plan.”

“What’s wrong with the plan?”

“Stiles, it’s the stupidest plan we’ve ever come up with. You’re aware of that, right?”

“I’m aware it’s not our best.”

Their newspaper session had started out fine until they got in Stiles’ car. Stiles asked Lydia to handle the directions, and they had ended up in a tense discussion about significant others.

“Hey, are you doing the directions on your phone? I can’t remember if it’s Exit 8 or Exit 9. What’s it say to do next?”

“I’m not doing the directions. I’m texting. Sorry, I thought you knew where you were going.”

“Is it Scott? Hey can you tell him I left my-“

“It’s not Scott. It’s someone from school. But he’s heading into class now anyway-”

“Oh.”

Lydia looked over at him, but he kept staring straight ahead at the road.

“So I was going to say I could pull up the directions now.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m pretty sure it’s Exit 9.” His tone was neutral, but the mood in the car had definitely changed.

She probably should have just dropped it, but she was already in a bad mood what with her car breaking down and Kira not helping with her jealousy dilemma.

“You text Malia all the time while we work on the paper. I don’t see why it should be any different when I have someone-“

He held up his hands, giving up before a fight could even begin. “Okay, right, sorry. It’s fine. I should have looked up the directions since this one was my idea.”

Again, maybe she should have just dropped it. But he had definitely started gripping the wheel a little tighter when she mentioned she was texting a boy and now he was taking over the plan that _she_ had created and she did not need any macho bullshit today and she was not jealous, _he_ was.

“ _Your_ idea?” was all she said.

And that was that. They had argued the entire drive over about whose plan it had actually been. They both agreed they needed to see the sales records to see which students had bought tickets to every game where there was an incident. Somewhere along the way, Stiles had swiped a security guard’s keycard, and Lydia had flirted her way into getting a tour of the school from a student so they’d know where the office was located.

Neither of them remembered agreeing to break into a locked school in the middle of the night, yet that was where they currently found themselves.

“We are going to go to jail.”

“Did you see a cop, or are you just being a pessimistic person?”

“I’m saying it as a person who doesn’t want to go to jail.” Stiles opened the door to a stairwell and let Lydia go first.

“Okay, then would you mind restricting any talk of getting arrested to actually seeing a cop?" 

“This plan is stupid, and we are going to jail.”

“Oh, thank you!” 

They got to the floor they were looking for, and Lydia opened the door. As she did so, she turned to flash a sarcastic grin at Stiles to let him know she was still annoyed, and he smiled right back at her in the same way. 

The next few seconds were a blur. One moment she was looking at him, and the next he was screaming her name and she was frozen on the spot.

“Lydia, don’t move. Not even an inch. Seriously.”

He was behind her, her foot was mid-step in the air, and she had no idea what was going on.

“Okay, don’t freak out, but it looks like these lights are motion activated, and there is a camera right around that corner. So… if you move any more than you have, the lights will turn on, that camera will catch it, and…”

“And we’re going to jail.”

“I didn’t say that.”

She could hear the distress in his voice. There was a long silence that followed. Lydia stood frozen in place, listening to Stiles pace in the stairwell behind her. She was indeed freaking out even though he told her not to.

“Stiles?” she finally asked. “If I put my foot down, an alarm is going to go off and we’ll be caught. If I step backwards or around the corner, an alarm is going to go off and we’ll be caught. I can’t think of one scenario where that alarm does not go off and we do not get caught. Stiles… What are you going to do?”

“I… uh… There’s no way I can get around you. I can’t try to go another way to disable the cameras with you stuck here like that. We have no plan for this. I can’t… I can’t do anything. I don’t have a plan.”

Then it was silent again, which was the most terrifying part of the whole situation. Stiles was always chatty. He was always cracking jokes. His silence said more than anything to her in that moment.

Lydia took a calming breath for the both of them. Right now she needed the Stiles who thought outside of the box and found loopholes, not the one who quietly walked in circles in a panic. 

“You don’t need a plan. When was the last time you ever stuck with a plan? Am I right?” She was exhausted and terrified and in no position to be giving a pep talk and she was crying but she kept going. “You don’t need a plan because you are too smart to waste your time with them, okay? You can figure it out. Stiles, you’re the one who always figures it out. So you can do it. Figure. It. Out.”

She heard a deep breath behind her and pictured him running his hand through his hair and blinking a few times to collect himself the way he always did. She wondered if her speech didn’t work.

“Okay,” he said suddenly. “Here we go. You’re going to push off the foot that’s on the ground just enough to jump backwards into my arms. If it works, 99% of the movement will happen beyond the camera’s scope, right?”

The leg she was holding up was beginning to ache, but she didn’t like his non-plan very much.

“You want me to barely jump at all and aim for something I can’t even see?” 

“Just get to me, and I’ll do the rest. You don’t have to aim. You just have to trust me. I’ll be there.”

She wasn’t breathing. She wasn’t even sure her heart was beating. She just needed to trust him.

“Ready?” he asked. 

And she realized she did. She nodded.

“Okay. Here we go.”

She closed her eyes, pushed as slightly as possible, and fell backwards. Time froze. The next thing she knew she was in his arms; he caught her and didn’t let go. She clutched his jacket and looked at him, hoping her face could express the words “thank you” because she was currently unable to speak. She just kept leaning on him, and he just kept letting her.

 

 

 

One Week Later; 3:11 A.M.

 

 

Lydia always kept her phone’s volume on loud in the middle of the night in case of an emergency. She also kept it right next to her pillow to ensure it would wake her up. She used to think these were good ideas.

The ringer cut through her sleep and she jumped up to answer it without even opening her eyes. “Hello? Hello? What is It? What’s wrong?” she rushed out, imaging a fire or a car accident or maybe some kind of break in.

“The Devenford Prep guys took a night off from vandalizing our statue to beat up another student.” 

Stiles. He sounded casual, like he was calling her as he walked to class or ate lunch or something.

She let out a sigh that was simultaneously both relief and annoyance. “Stiles? Are you kidding me?”

There was a pause. “Did I wake you?” She heard him giggle at himself. 

“I’m hanging up.” Her head dropped back onto her pillow but she kept the phone to her ear.

“No wait! I swear it’s important.”

“It better be. This literally better be a phone call to tell me you’ve solved the case. And that you’re bringing me pancakes and coffee in a few hours to celebrate.” She pulled her blankets up over her head and thought of a million curses for Stiles Stilinski.

This had become something that happened quite often: Stiles getting a flash of inspiration in the middle of the night and immediately calling her. She tried not to think about why she didn’t start turning her volume down or simply ignore his call. She appreciated that he didn’t ask her that either.

“God, you’re dramatic. Okay, so you know how we’ve been kind of breaking the rules a lot for this case?”

“And how we agreed we were going to stop doing that and try to solve it an ethical way? Yes.”

“Well, what if I told you that I broke one more rule and _glanced_ at my dad’s computer and found a police record that could help us out?”

“I would say that’s not a rule, that’s a law.”

“Details,” Stiles said nonchalantly. “So I was thinking about how you said there would be records of anyone out past curfew, and I realized there have to be records for all kinds of stuff, right? Well something happened over the weekend, but apparently it wasn’t up to campus security to deal with it because there was a cop nearby who saw the kid who got beat up; his name’s Danny. Someone saw him, asked him some questions, and now the incident is in their files.”

“That’s actually great,” Lydia said, opening her eyes for the first time. “I mean, a file has to have a lot of information, right? Descriptions, time frames, names.”

“Well that’s where we kind of hit a wall. Danny wasn’t really in the mood to talk.” 

She slumped, the momentary excitement leaving her body. “So we don’t know anything.”

“We know his name! And we know that he’s in the hospital.”

Lydia considered everything for a moment. “No more breaking rules,” she finally said, imagining herself sticking out her hand for them to shake on it.

“No more breaking rules,” he agreed.

“But we should pay this guy a visit. What hospital is he at?”

“It’s called Eichen House. The website says it’s not too far. It doesn’t look so bad.”


	15. Chapter 15

February 12th

 

 

 

As if their luck hadn’t been horrible enough, the Eichen House Hospital they had to visit was… not ideal.

Okay, actually, it was downright creepy. Really creepy. Like, if The Shining had taken place in a hospital instead of a hotel, Eichen House would have been the setting.

The hallways were dimly lit and filled with patients muttering things about the devil. Every doctor and nurse they passed looked like they were secretly hoping everyone inside the building would die.

But he had a job to do. Him and Lydia needed answers, and it was time they spoke to someone who was directly involved. 

“This place is…” he started, trying to find one positive thing to say about it since it was his idea to come. 

“Creepy? Disturbing? Haunted? Home to two twins who are about to show up and ask us to play with them forever?”

Stiles did a double take at how well she had read his mind and then just nodded.

They walked up to the nurse’s station, and Lydia rang the bell even though a man was sitting right at the computer and he already looked unpleasant enough.

“Hey there, Nurse…” she leaned forward until she could clearly read his name tag. “Brunski. We’re here to visit a patient.”

“Visiting hours are over,” he said without looking up. 

“It’s like, 3 in the afternoon,” Stiles said.

“Visiting hours are over… for you.”

“Look, his name is Danny Mahealani. We’re friends of his from school, and he’s a crucial witness in an ongoing investigation,” Stiles said as confidently as he could.

Brunski leaned back in his chair and smiled in a way that made Stiles think he punched kittens in his spare time. “You kids are cops?”

Stiles and Lydia looked at each other at the exact same moment, Lydia glaring as Stiles sighed heavily.

“We’re with the local paper, and if we can’t get in to see our good friend Danny, you’ll have the sheriff to answer to,” Lydia said as she raised her chin in defiance. For a second, Stiles actually believed every word she said.

Brunski stood up and leaned forward on the counter. “Like I said: visiting hours are over for you. I might be willing to bend the rules, however, for a small price.”

Stiles laughed and turned to leave but paused when he heard Lydia’s purse unzip. 

“Lydia, don’t give this guy money.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it buddy. You’re girlfriend’s footing the bill. I’ll take you right up to Danny.”

The two of them exchanged another look, but Stiles knew if Lydia was willing to pay, she wasn’t going to turn back now. It was up to him, and after a moment of hesitation, he put his hand on her back and guided her in the direction of Brunski.

The elevator ride up was silent. The walk to his room was somehow even quieter. Stiles tried his best to just look straight ahead, but a few times Lydia stopped to stare at something that shocked her, and he had to nudge her to keep going.

“Alright, here he is. Your _friend_ ,” Brunski said as he opened the door to his room, his tone making it evident he didn’t believe a word they said. “He’s a little out of it because of the drugs. Next time I come up here you kids better be gone unless you’re looking to stay the night.”

With that, he was gone, shutting the door behind him. And then they were alone with Danny, a boy Stiles had never seen in his life. He looked like so many people he had walked right by at school, except for the bruises all over his face and the bandage on his wrist. 

The sudden noise in the room woke Danny up. He still seemed a little loopy, but his eyes were open, albeit unfocused. It was better than nothing.

“Hey, Danny!” Stiles said in his best-excited voice. “Uh, remember us? We go to your school. We were real torn up by what happened to you. We couldn’t have our good friend Danny in the hospital with no visitors, could we?” 

Danny stared at him for an eternity before asking, “Who are you?”

“Haha, always a jokester. That reminds me of that one time in class. You remember?” Stiles asked, trying to be as vague as possible.

Danny closed his eyes for so long, Stiles wondered if he was asleep. Finally, he opened them again and nodded slightly. “Yeah, sure.” 

Stiles spotted some cards on his bedside table. “Ah, looks like some of our other friends have been in too, huh Lydia?” He walked over to the table and picked a few up. “Cora… Mason… Liam… Oh, Greenberg! I actually _do_ know Greenberg.” He checked to see if Danny had caught that – he did – so he cleared his throat and put the cards back. “Just like I know you. From school. That one class, you know?” He walked back to stand next to Lydia. 

“Yeah… so, um, why are you here?” Danny asked groggily.

Stiles did a finger gun at him. “I like your style. Right to the point. Alright, so… We want to know what happened that night.”

Another eternity passed. “I’m not telling you that.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean… I want to help... With everything… But I just…”

“Great! So help us now, okay? Tell us who attacked you or how it happened or where,” Stiles said, his patience already starting to wear thin. He looked at Lydia for support, but she simply stood there, looking down at the ground.

Danny shook his head and looked away.

“Does shaking your head mean you don’t know? Or you’re not going to help us?”

“I don’t know. I just… it’s embarrassing.” His words were slurring. Stiles realized he wasn’t going to be able to stay awake much longer.

“Dude, a lot more people could get hurt. We just need some details. Anything.” He stepped closer to Danny and suddenly felt Lydia’s hand on his wrist pulling him back.

“I don’t… Want anyone… To get hurt.”

“What did they look like, Danny? Can you tell us that?” Stiles asked, urgency in his voice.

Danny’s eyes closed, and Stiles realized this had all been for nothing. His head dropped, and Lydia put her hand on the doorknob.

“There were three… Brown hair…. They weren’t that much taller than me. Big muscles though. Blue eyes. But it was… Dark.”

And then his head tilted, and it was obvious he was already in a deep sleep.

 

 

They left the room and walked as fast as possible to the elevator. Once they were there, Lydia quickly pushed the button at least a dozen times, and then Stiles pressed it twice more. 

When the doors opened, they stepped inside and both stared straight ahead. Lydia’s hands were clutching at the purse that hung from her shoulder, and Stiles was tapping his fingers against his chin.

“So you were uncharacteristically quiet back there,” Stiles said as soon as the doors shut.

“Uncharacteristically is a strong way to put it. I’m quiet sometimes. Maybe I just wanted to let you run the show this time; be the leader.”

“That’s even more uncharacteristic.” He wasn’t looking at her, but he could see that her hands were rubbing the back of her neck and her eyes were closed, like she was stressed about something.

“I just don’t really like hospitals, okay?” she snapped.

“Why didn’t you tell me that? You should have stayed back. I could’ve come alone.”

That wasn’t entirely true, he knew. He wasn’t good at talking to people on his own when he had his mind set on getting something from them. He was impatient and hostile and it made them shut down. But today, Lydia had touched his hand and pulled him back. She balanced him.

“Because it’s not a big deal. They just make me nervous.” She paused and sighed, and when she continued she sounded like she was admitting a secret. “I walk through those front doors, and it’s like… it’s like I’m a little kid coming to see my grandmother again. I can hear her screaming in my head. The smells, the florescent lights, it all just…” She zoned out for a few seconds, deep in thought, and then shook her head and pressed her lips into a thin line. “It’s fine. I’m not a little kid anymore,” she said confidently.

Stiles thought about what hospitals reminded him of. He didn’t have to think too hard; those memories were always floating right below the surface. It was like he was 9 years old again, taking the elevator up to see his mom.

For the first time all day, Stiles spoke softly. “Hey, you don’t have to be a little kid to be scared. Hospitals freak me out, too.” 

She turned her head to him then, surprised. “Really?” He looked back at her and nodded. “How do you deal with it?”

“Uh… I guess I just concentrate on the fact that no one is keeping me here anymore, you know? I don’t have to come back to visit. I don’t have to stay for a certain amount of time. I can leave whenever I want. Like right now.” 

As if every atom in the universe heard him utter those words and decided to pull one hell of a practical joke on him, the elevator stopped right then. The lights flickered a few times, and everything went completely silent. 

“Well, thank you for that,” Stiles said to the universe. He walked over to the wall of buttons and tried to press the emergency one, but nothing happened. He didn’t even hear an alarm sound or a beep or _anything_. 

“What are we going to do?” Lydia whispered.

He calmly pressed the emergency button again, waited 3 seconds, and then pressed every button on the wall.

“Stiles…”

“Okay, yeah… I think we’re just going to have to wait it out. I mean, they have to know it’s not working, right? There are thousands of people in here, someone is bound to try to use this elevator, and then when they press the button and it doesn’t come, they’ll go to the desk downstairs and tell someone. That’s exactly-“ 

He turned around mid-rant, and realized she was pacing. Given the small space, he was almost impressed with that feat, but at the moment he could only think about calming her down.

He took a few steps back and blocked her path so that she had to stand still and gently touched her arm. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, before grimacing at his own dumb question. “Look, it’ll be fine. Someone will come. Do you want to sit?”

She looked down at the ground, then back at him, and then simply nodded. She looked so sad that Stiles swore he could feel pain in his chest.

They sat down side-by-side and leaned against the back wall. They didn’t say a word for a few minutes. Stiles was sure Lydia didn’t feel like talking, and he just had no idea what to say and was terrified of making things worse.

Suddenly, she pulled her knees up and dropped her head so that her face was hidden in them, and she covered her ears with her hands. He heard her crying softly and realized she was thinking about her grandmother screaming.

“Lydia? Just breathe, okay? You’ll be fine.”

It almost reminded him of the panic attacks he got sometimes, but it seemed more like an out-of-body experience or something. She was breathing fine, but her mind was somewhere far away playing tricks on her. 

He kept repeating comforting words to her, but nothing was helping. He thought about how when he was freaking out, nothing anyone said could calm him down. It was all about getting his brain distracted.

“Lydia, look at me,” he said as he put his arms around her. He was panicked now because he was clueless, but he tried to ignore his own problems. “Don’t listen. Okay, don't listen to it.” He felt her arms relax a little bit, and she lowered her hands away from her ears. “Just focus on my voice, Lydia. Don't listen to it. Block it out. Okay? Lydia?”

It got quiet then, and moments later she leaned her head back and rested it on his shoulder, tears drying on her face. His arms were still around her even though he knew she was calmer now. Whatever had set her off had passed, but he wasn’t letting go until she did.

He wasn’t sure how much time had gone by but eventually she sat upright. She offered him a small smile as a way of saying she was fine, but he still felt uneasy. He put his hand under her chin and forced her to look up at him, and he wiped away her tears.

She opened her mouth to say something, but the elevator doors opened. Neither of them said a word to their rescuers as they quickly stood up and practically ran out of the building to Stiles’ jeep.

The ride home was quiet. Awkwardly, unbearably quiet. He wanted to tell her everything was fine, or maybe he should have mentioned how helpful Danny had been. Maybe he should've thanked her for stopping him from ruining everything back in the hospital room. He could have said he wouldn’t tell anyone about what happened, but he thought maybe that didn’t need to be said. He thought of hundreds of things to say but remained silent until they were abruptly sitting out front of her dorm.

“Uh… I’ll walk you to the door,” he blurted out.

Lydia got out of the front seat, and together they walked up the few steps that led to her dorm building. 

“So… thanks for… everything. Sorry I was kind of a nutjob back there. I probably also should have mentioned that I’m not really a fan of small spaces.”

He scratched his ear and smiled. “I’m learning so much about you, how fun is this?”

She laughed but kept her eyes on the ground.

Even more so than before, he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t even know why he felt the need to walk her to her door. She just seemed so… fragile. And he felt like he needed to keep her safe. And…

Before his mind could do any more circles around itself, he pulled her in for a hug. He put his hand in her hair and held her as close as possible as she leaned in to him. They stood there for a while, just being with each other. It wasn’t until he was falling asleep that night that he realized he had become friends with Lydia Martin.

 

 

 

“I still can’t believe you put pineapple on your pizza,” Malia said as they sat in the cafeteria with Scott for dinner.

“Salty and sweet is the best combination known to man,” Scott said with his mouth disgustingly full.

“Well I’m not a man, so I say you’re both gross.”

They continued going back and forth like that while Stiles zoned out. He couldn’t stop obsessing over what Danny had said earlier. The fact that three of them had jumped him several months ago, _and_ three had jumped Danny that weekend probably meant they were only looking for a group of three. Unless it was a larger group but they only worked three at a time. Stiles didn’t think they were smart enough to care about taking shifts to deter law enforcement. Then of course there was the other side of the rivalry: the vandalism. They needed to see who was defacing their statue. If they saw only one person doing it, or more than 3, that could mean they were dealing with two different groups of culprits.

“Stiles, are you even listening to us?” Malia asked.

“What? Yeah.” He shook his head to clear it and rejoin reality. “Pineapple on pizza is the key to success.”

Malia rolled her eyes and took a bite out of her pepperoni slice.

“Come on, you can’t blame him for being sidetracked,” Scott said. “He’s busy being a student by day, and Dirty Harry by night.”

“Who?”

Stiles was seriously offended. “Babe. Clint Eastwood. We’ve talked about this. Have you still not finished watching the list of classic movies I gave you?”

She groaned but then leaned over and smiled up at him. “Fine. Next time you’re working on the paper, I’ll watch movies and eat your gross pizza. Happy?”

Stiles grinned and kissed her quickly. “Alright. No more school paper talk. It’ll be good to take my mind off of it. Anyone up for bowling?”

“I suck at bowling,” Scott said.

They all stood up, and Stiles laced his fingers through Malia’s. “I know. It’ll make me look good in front of my girlfriend.”

 

 

 

LITTLEMERMAID: Do you ever feel stupid after being vulnerable with someone? You feel like now that you let someone see that you have fears and weaknesses, that’s all they’ll see when they look at you? Maybe it’s just me. Lately I’ve been scared of letting people down. You know, no one used to expect anything of me. My parents were going through a divorce throughout my high school years; that kept them occupied. My friends only really knew that I had a lake house that was great for parties. But now I try to be a different person. I don’t hide that I’m intelligent. I try to be nicer… But those weaknesses are still there underneath it all. Is everyone going to see the real me and leave?

LITTLEMERMAID: Sorry, I’ve had a weird day. I think these are all rhetorical questions. You don’t have to answer. I think I’ve already said way too much.

SOLOJEDI: I think knowing someone’s weaknesses isn’t a disadvantage. It helps you see them for what they really are. Fears don’t equal flaws. Want me to even the playing field? I’ll tell you what I’m scared of: losing someone I love. There’s already a pretty huge hole in my life since someone close to me died. I don’t think I can handle any more. Actually, I’m not just scared; I’m _terrified_. Feel better?

LITTLEMERMAID: Thank you. For what it’s worth, though, I don’t know if there’s anything you couldn’t handle. You’re stronger than you think you are. 

SOLOJEDI: Well, for what’s it’s worth, I don’t think anyone would ever leave you.


	16. Chapter 16

February 26th

 

 

 

“So what are you working on tonight?” Kira asked as she watched Lydia look for a bag to bring with her.  
  
“Well, we need to find out if we’re going after two different groups of jerks or just one multi-tasking group of jerks. Stiles has been keeping track of the nights when that stupid statue gets vandalized, and he found a pattern. So if all goes according to plan, they will be there tonight and we will get some answers.” 

“That was pretty smart of Stiles. I wouldn’t have thought to look for a pattern.” 

“Yeah, well, he thinks he’s the third Hardy boy.”

She continued getting her bag for the evening together, hoping stake outs were as boring as they sounded. She was wearing high heels and a new pink dress she bought, so having to do actual physical work would really put a damper on her fashion choices. As she pondered if a brown backpack or a black one would compliment her outfit better, there was a knock at the door.

She barely opened it up even a fraction before Stiles came in, practically jumping with excitement.

“Hey, look at us, about to do some real police work,” he said much too quickly. “We’re like a crime-fighting duo, you know? Benson and Stabler, Black Widow and Hawkeye, Scully and-“

“Real police work?” she interrupted as she packed some energy drinks. “Stiles, we’re staking out a statue. That’s not exactly equivalent to busting a perp after a drive-by drug deal at the center of a notorious gambling ring.” 

“Okay, are you just throwing together every delinquency you know? That’s very endearing. Should a good-cop-bad-cop situation present itself tonight, you can be the good cop.” 

She would deny it if he asked, but she had checked out a few mystery novels from the library to prepare.

“I’m not a good cop or any cop,” she told him, folding a blanket. “The cop thing is yours. I’m just here because…”

“You’re a detective,” he offered.

She thought about that and frowned. 

“You’re a reporter.”

She considered it but then shook her head.

He threw his hands up. “You’re _something_!” 

“What I am is busy.” She gestured to her unorganized bag. “Do you like grapes? I’m packing us some snacks.”

“ _Grapes_? Lydia, that is _so_ not stake out food. I have some chips and soda in my jeep. And do you have to be wearing hot pink?”

“Do you guys fight like this the whole time you work together? You sound like an old married couple,” Kira laughed.

Lydia zipped up her backpack and headed for the door. “We don’t fight. We battle with words. All friendly. No one ever loses.” She smiled mockingly at Stiles who was mouthing the words “not really” to Kira. He walked out of the dorm first, and Lydia turned back to Kira. “Just kidding. I always win. Especially when he tries to get me not to wear hot pink.”

 

 

_You’re something_.

Something.

The word repeated in Lydia’s head over and over again as her and Stiles sat in comfortable silence. She wasn’t a cop, definitely. She didn’t thrive on dangerous situations like Stiles did. Danger made him think quicker; it made her freeze up. She also wasn’t a reporter. She didn’t like prying into situations that didn’t concern her and then writing it out for the world to see.

Yet she found herself acting as both a cop and a reporter this semester. Not because she liked the work, like Stiles, but because she wanted to help people. She realized that was the common denominator in everything she was doing. All she cared about was the end result. Maybe she could save some people, or at the very least, stop them from getting hurt. Was there a career in that? One where she could also win the Field’s Medal? She decided she’d ask her online friend if it ever came up.

She found herself thinking about him more and more throughout her days. What had started as a simple daily task had turned into the thing she looked forward to most.

“Did you hear that?”

Lydia had been deep in her thoughts and hadn’t heard a thing. “What?”

“I don’t know. It sounded a little like someone tapped on the window or something.”

She looked around to see if anyone was outside. “I think we would have seen someone come up to the car.”

He let out a breath he had apparently been holding in and laughed once. “Yeah, yeah you’re right. Sorry. I get a little jumpy at night.”

Lydia slapped his arm jokingly. “Oh, now you tell me. Who’s going to protect me if the criminals show up? I’m in high heels!” 

“Please. I’ve seen you jump backwards in a pitch-black hallway in those things. You’re protecting the both of us.”

She smiled, but turned the conversation back to what he had mentioned before. “So why does the nighttime make you jumpy?”

He leaned back in his seat and opened an energy drink. “I used to get these terrible night terrors. I’d wake up screaming my lungs out thinking I was outside caught in a bear trap. It was pretty intense.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Yeah I know. It sounds crazy, but-“

Lydia shrugged. “Not to someone who actually walked outside in her sleep. Seriously. A cold winter night, no shoes, and I’m in the middle of the woods sleep walking.”

“Oh… wow,” Stiles repeated. When he realized he had said the same thing she had, they both started laughing. “Maybe we’re both crazy.” 

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of reese’s cups she had secretly packed. Stiles glanced over and looked offended. “You said you brought grapes!”

“I did! I just also brought something good.”

She handed him one as a peace offering, and he took it. 

“So, enough about scary things in the night. Let’s talk about something positive to pass the time. How are things with Malia?”

Honestly, she didn’t want to know. Malia was in their lives, fine. But it didn’t mean she wanted to hear the details. But Stiles was her friend, and he should be able to tell her about his life, even if it was terribly annoying. 

Stiles wasn’t expecting to be asked about his girlfriend, she could tell. He fidgeted in his seat for a while before answering. “Malia’s great.”

“Sounds fun,” Lydia said, accidentally sounding incredibly sarcastic.

“No, it is,” he replied quickly. “She really is a great girl. We have fun together, she makes me laugh, it’s all good.”

He still sounded unexcited, but Lydia didn’t push it further. The silence that followed, however, seemed to make Stiles uneasy.

“We never fight,” he blurted out. “Literally never. We have a good time _all the time_. Is that wrong?”

“It’s better than things being bad all the time, like with Jackson and me.”

“Yeah, but… I think it’s supposed to be good _and_ bad. Not as bad as Jackson. He was the worst.” Lydia couldn’t help interrupting him to laugh. He smiled at her before continuing. “What about the guy from school? How is that going?”

She wondered if he was trying to sound casual. It was a good act if he was.

“That was over before it even started. He wasn’t what I needed. He was just… taking my mind off of… I don’t know what.” She cleared her throat, suddenly very aware that she was talking about the boy sitting next to her _to_ the boy sitting next to her. “Anyways, him and I barely even spoke. I don’t know anything about him. Now that I’m looking at my track record, I think I’d prefer only good times; keep the drama out of it.”

Stiles wasn’t giving up that easily. “But arguments and frustration and making up. I think that’s all part of it.” 

He was right, obviously. If The Notebook taught her anything it’s that the best relationships were tumultuous. But it wasn’t her job to deconstruct Stiles’ love life, so instead she just smiled encouragingly.

“I think if the only problem you have with a relationship is that it’s too perfect, things are going pretty well.”

Stiles turned his head to her then, and she wondered what he could possibly be thinking. He looked almost disappointed in her response. His eyes found hers, and it seemed like he had a million things he wanted to say. But Lydia couldn’t read him. Whatever he was feeling, he was going to have to tell her. 

Maybe he would have. Maybe she would know why he wasn’t so happy with his great girlfriend or why the mere possibility of that made her feel something she would never admit to herself. 

But the moment was interrupted when three boys appeared a few hundred yards away.

They both quickly leaned down, and Stiles shut his car off so that they blended into the dark parking lot perfectly.

“What do we do?” she whispered, panic in her voice.

“I don’t know, but I feel like we should stop them,” he whispered back.

“We are not confronting three boys by ourselves. Hey – three boys. Do you think they're the same ones?”

“Gotta be. Didn’t Danny say they weren’t too tall?”

Lydia nodded and looked closer at them. They all wore hoods so she couldn’t make out their hair color, and they were too far away to see their eyes. The only thing that was clear was their build.

“Did he say they were skinny or muscle-y?” she asked. 

“Did he say? I can’t remember. I wrote it down somewhere. Hold on,” he reached over to grab something from the backseat, but his hand slipped and landed right on the horn.

“Stiles!” she whisper-yelled, but the damage was done. The group looked up, spotted the car, and took off like deer caught in headlights.

“Stealth,” she teased.

“Okay, I never claimed to be James Bond. But hey, at least they didn’t get to finish the job,” he said, pointing to the statue which was only half covered in toilet paper. 

“So what do the notes say?”

He scanned the paper. “Danny said they weren’t that tall… but yeah, definitely had muscles.”

“Well, that matches up. We know who we have to find.”

 

 

LITTLEMERMAID: What do you want to be when you grow up? 

SOLOJEDI: I don’t know. Superman maybe? With like a hint of James Bond. You?

LITTLEMERMAID: I don’t have a clue. I don’t even know enough to give a joke answer like that. I don’t even have an idea. Like, clearly you want to hunt down bad guys, right?

SOLOJEDI: Well, yeah, but I’m not that far ahead of you. I don’t have like, a career plan in mind. I have a goal I guess. But I’m just taking my general education courses and trying not to be too hungover for class on Mondays. You’re fine.

LITTLEMERMAID: I’m not fine, I’m freaking out. 

SOLOJEDI: Well let’s think about it. What are your favorite subjects?

LITTLEMERMAID: Science and math.

SOLOJEDI: What do you like to do outside of class?

LITTLEMERMAID: I read… I hang out with my friends. We talk about our lives and give each other advice to help with our problems. I like doing that.

SOLOJEDI: So if you want a career doing what you love, you want to use your brain to help others. Voila!

LITTLEMERMAID: You don’t really think you figured out my entire life based on that incredibly vague conclusion, do you?

SOLOJEDI: I think I gave you a nudge in the right direction! And if I know you, once something is on your mind, you will do gigantic amounts of boring research until you have your answer.

LITTLEMERMAID: You’re right.

SOLOJEDI: I am?

LITTLEMERMAID: About the fact that I will figure this out on my own.

SOLOJEDI: Glad to be of service.

LITTLEMERMAID: You really did help though. You can always calm me down.

SOLOJEDI: Yeah, you calm me down too. Speaking of which, I have a bit of a problem. Less of a problem, actually. It’s more like a narrative that I would prefer didn’t exist.

LITTLEMERMAID: What’s the problem?

SOLOJEDI: Do you think it’s wrong if a guy has a girlfriend but he has a “strong connection” to a different girl? I put that in quotes because I noticed no such connection, but my roommate said it in passing earlier so I have obviously been obsessing about it all day.

LITTLEMERMAID: I think there is no right and no wrong.

SOLOJEDI: That was frustratingly ambiguous.

LITTLEMERMAID: Well it doesn’t matter what I think! Or what your roommate thinks. It’s all about how you feel.

SOLOJEDI: About what?

LITTLEMERMAID: You know… when you’re at school and you see her standing down the hall, can you breathe until you’re with her? Or when you’re in class, can you keep your eyes off the clock knowing that she’s standing right out there waiting for you? Do you know what that feels like?

SOLOJEDI: I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe with the wrong person. A version of that. I just… I don’t know.


	17. Chapter 17

March 7th

 

 

 

Rage was a relatively new emotion for Stiles. He typically glided through life ignoring his problems until they went away, or he used sarcasm as his only defense.

Something changed though.

It changed when he got jumped and didn’t protect himself; when he had to face his friends and family covered in bruises. The rage had been present since then, maybe it was why he volunteered to handle this story in the first place. He wanted his revenge. But his plan was to be calculated about it: do his research, catch them in the act, and report them to every authority figure both colleges had. However, then he saw Danny lying in that hospital bed, and he realized these guys weren’t thinking about it as much as he was. They were fine. They were already onto their next victim. And they were laughing about it because they were getting away with it. 

Now the rage was eating him alive.

It only got worse when he started questioning his relationship with Malia. That stress added to it. Nothing Scott or his online friend had said made him feel better. He was just confused and frustrated and angry with himself and everyone else. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone for a drive to clear his head. Maybe he shouldn’t have even gotten out of his car when he realized he had driven to Devenford Prep.

Truthfully, he didn’t know there was a basketball game that night. He parked, put his hands in his pockets, and walked around the campus with his head down, which was half of the reason why he bumped into some guy. The other half of the reason was because that guy was drinking.

“Woooah. Watch it,” he slurred.

“Yeah, you too,” Stiles said as he kept walking.

“What’d you say?” the drunk guy called.

Stiles stopped walking. “I said you should also watch where you’re going.” He turned around to face the stranger. “It’s not like I bumped into myself. Maybe if you weren’t staring at that beer bottle in your hand you would have seen me.”

“What’s your problem?”

“I have a lot of problems, one of them now being a drunk asshole.”

That pissed the drunk guy off. He stepped closer and smashed the beer bottle on the edge of a bench so that what remained in his hand was only the top part of it with some jagged edges.

“Want to say that again?” he asked Stiles as he swayed on his feet, unable to stand up straight.

Stiles liked to think that any other day, when he was in a better mood, he would have just shrugged it off and walked away. But this guy was pushing his buttons, and he was already in a bad mood.

“I said that you’re being a drunk asshole.”

He had to give the guy credit. For being as drunk as he was, he managed to fling the broken bottle at Stiles’ head with surprisingly good direction. He just wasn’t fast enough. Stiles ducked at the last second and turned to see the bottle hit the ground and crash into a thousand little pieces.

The next thing he did was stop thinking, which was evident when he turned and charged the guy, knocking him onto the ground. He stayed on top of him as they both fell onto the pavement, grabbing his collar into a bunch with his hands. Then, suddenly, he was pulling his hand back into a fist, and then he punched him in the face. Well, more specifically, the nose, which he collided with perfectly as he saw some blood splatter.

The blood snapped him out of whatever haze he had been in. He sat up as the guy reached for his nose and cursed at him. Stiles wanted to apologize, even help him get to a first aid kit, but he heard a group of people coming towards them. They were a few hundred feet away and seemed to be celebrating their school’s win, so before he knew it, Stiles was on his feet and running back to his car. He didn’t ask for their help or make sure the guy was okay.

He just got back in his car and drove, the entire time checking his rearview mirror – for what, he wasn’t sure. He was just on edge.

His hands were shaking as he dialed the only person he could think of. She didn’t pick up the first time so he called back right away.

“Hey, sorry I grabbed it like, a second too late I guess. I was about to call you back but then you were already calling again. See why I hate technology? Everything always seems so-“ 

“Can I come over?”

“What? Yeah, of course. What’s wrong?”

“I’ll be there soon.” He hung up on her.

Stiles hated himself. He hated what he did. He hated how happy and carefree she always sounded whenever he was feeling like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He hated the fact that he hated that. He hated that guy and that school and his school. Hate, hate, hate. The only good thing about the hate was that it was taking his mind of the rage.

He knocked on her door too hard and too loud and barged in past her too roughly when she opened it.

“What’s going on?” Malia asked as she shut the door. “You sounded weird on the phone.”

“I uh… I got in a fight.” He walked around a little bit and then stood still and then walked over to the bed but didn’t sit. He looked down at his hand and realized it was still shaking, but now he wasn’t sure if it was from adrenaline or the throbbing pain.

Malia couldn’t have looked more confused if he had actually just told her he’d bought a unicorn or discovered Earth’s second moon.

“ _You_ got in a fight?”

She sat down on the bed and pulled his hand so that he sat down beside her. When he grimaced at her touch, she looked closer at his hand, more gently. “Geez, how hard did you hit him? This looks like it’s going to bruise.” She walked over to her mini-refrigerator and came back with an ice pack. “So who was it?”

“Someone from Devenford Prep. He was drunk, and I was mad.”

“So you punched him?”

“I didn’t even mean to hit him. Well, I did. But I wasn’t thinking about it. It’s not why I went there.”

“Why _did_ you go there?”

“I was mad,” he repeated. He didn’t want to invite questions about why he was, though, so he quickly changed the subject. “But that’s not the part that’s bothering me.” He paused to fidget with the ice pack, hoping that could be where he ended the conversation, but alas Malia sat there unexpectedly patient and waited for him to continue. “Right after I hit him, I didn’t feel bad. I mean, after a few seconds I realized I messed up, and he needed help, but not right away. Immediately after, like right when it happened, I felt _good_.”

She shrugged with understanding. “Well, you got your anger out. You can’t keep it bottled up.”

He sighed. “ Yeah, but I don’t want to be this guy. I don’t want to be angry.”

“Anger is good. Sometimes it’s what protects you.”

That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He wanted someone to be disappointed in him, to tell him he was wrong. That’s what he deserved. He didn’t want it to be justified because the next time he was pissed off, those were the words he would hear in his head and then he would end up just making another mistake.

“Do you feel better?” she asked after the long silence.

He didn’t want her to feel like she hadn’t helped, so he mustered up a smile.

“Yeah,” he lied.

She looked pleased, and he felt a little calmer than he had when he first got there, but he didn’t sleep over for the first time since they started dating.

 

 

 

 

 

SOLOJEDI: Hey, I know it’s late, but are you up?

LITTLEMERMAID: I am, actually. I’m getting a head start on some projects. What are you doing up?

SOLOJEDI: The same thing.

LITTLEMERMAID: LOL. You don’t think I know you better than that by now?

SOLOJEDI: Fine. I can’t sleep.

LITTLEMERMAID: Did you try counting sheep? Warm milk?

SOLOJEDI: Yeah. I think I’m going to need something more extreme. Do you think you could, like, explain some crazy mathematical formula to me? Something boring that goes totally over my head.

LITTLEMERMAID: Finding a _boring_ mathematical formula would be nearly impossible, but I‘ll just tell you about my favorite theorem. It’s called the Euler Line equation. So basically, the Euler line is a central line segment that passes through a triangle’s orthocenter, centroid, and circumcenter. Those three points are collinear for any triangle that’s not equilateral, obviously. Are you still awake?

SOLOJEDI: How could I not be? This is riveting.

LITTLEMERMAID: Anyways, to observe the theorem you would have to draw the smallest circle containing the triangle and find its center and then the center of mass of the triangle. Next you would draw the three altitudes of the triangle and find the point where they all meet. According to the theorem, all of the points you would have found would always lie on one single straight line. Isn’t that cool?

SOLOJEDI: Um… yeah, very cool. And that’s your favorite theorem because…. You love triangles and straight lines? You like finding points in circles?

LITTLEMERMAID: Do you know who Glen Whitney is?

SOLOJEDI: Nope.

LITTLEMERMAID: He’s the founder of the Museum of Math in New York. He talked about this theorem before, and he put it so wonderfully. He said it captures the beauty and power of mathematics because it finds surprising patterns in simple, familiar shapes.

SOLOJEDI: Oh, so you like the deeper meaning behind it.

LITTLEMERMAID: Well, yeah, I guess. That’s kind of how it always is with math. You look at a group of numbers and symbols and find out how it fits into a much bigger picture. I mean, you can apply this theorem to so many things; a longstanding building that is hiding an ancient treasure; an old friend who one day amazes you and you fall in love. 

SOLOJEDI: Damn it. It got interesting.

LITTLEMERMAID: It always does.

SOLOJEDI: Alright, what else you got?

 

 

 

 

 

An hour later, Stiles was still tossing and turning in his bed. He sat up and flipped his pillow, fluffed it, and rotated it. He kicked off his blanket then put one leg under the covers. He sat up again.

“Dude.” Scott groaned from his own bed. Kira left for spring break a few days early to travel with her parents so he was alone tonight as well.

“Sorry. I can’t sleep.”

“Yeah, I noticed. I saw you on your phone for like, 2 hours. Were you talking to Malia?”

“Yeah,” he lied without thinking. Scott’s silence made him think he didn’t believe him but didn’t want to say it. He wanted to change the subject so he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “I got in a fight tonight.”

“With Malia?”

“What? No. With a guy. Like, a physical fight.”

Scott bolted up in his bed right as Stiles collapsed back onto his pillow.

“Dude!”

Stiles couldn’t tell if that was a good “dude” or a bad one, so he flung his arm over his eye and recounted the fight to his best friend.

When he finally finished, Scott shook his head slowly. “Duuude.”

“Dude!” Stiles said, throwing his hands up to show Scott that he needed to find something else to say.

Scott lay back down in his bed. “That’s… not like you. Where did that come from?”

“I guess it’s been building for a while.” 

“Did you tell Malia?”

“Yeah. She tried to make me feel better but it didn’t really work.” He paused, then for no other reason than the fact that it was Scott he was talking to, he added, “And she actually wasn’t who I was talking to on the phone earlier.”

Scott sighed but knew not ask for more details on the subject. “Things are going to be different now, aren’t they?”

Stiles wasn’t sure if he meant for Stiles and Malia or just for Stiles. Either way, he said, “Yeah.”

They both lay in their beds, staring at the ceiling, not saying a word. But somehow it was helping. If you’re going to be up all night fighting against your own conscious, it’s nice to have a friend by your side.

“Hey, Stiles? Next time you’re going to be an idiot, call me first, okay? If I can’t stop you, at least I’ll do it with you. Or just… I could’ve helped, you know? It didn’t have to come to this.”

“Thanks, man.”

It was what he needed to hear from his best friend. It helped a little. He was finally able to fall asleep 47 minutes later.


	18. Chapter 18

March 16th

 

 

 

Aiden kissed Lydia on the cheek goodbye as she smiled down at her phone reading a new email from her pen pal.

“I know that smile.” Kira said when Aiden was out of earshot. “Boy, are you in trouble.” 

Kira was smirking at her from the other side of a table in the school café where they had come to study together. Aiden happened to be there, and he had tried to come over and talk but Lydia simply wasn’t having it. The sight of Kira’s smirk, however, did give her the sudden urge to talk about boys with her best friend. Besides, now that her communications class was over, she didn’t feel the need to be as private about the whole thing anymore.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course.” Kira closed her schoolbooks and sat up. 

Lydia leaned forward on her side of the table where she sat directly across from her friend. “It’s a big one. You can’t tell anyone. Not even Scott.”

Kira rolled her eyes, but she was too nice for it to have the affect she had aimed for. “Lydia, you’re my best friend. You can tell me anything. Now spill!” 

“I like someone.”

She looked disappointed. “That’s the secret? I already knew that! You two are all over each other!”

“What? No. Everything with Aiden is purely physical. I’m talking about someone online.”

Kira was interested again. “Seriously?! I need details!”

“Well it started as an extra credit assignment last semester. I was barely even interested in it." Lydia paused. She almost stopped then, but her heart got the better of her. "But then it got to be more fun and more comfortable, and before I knew it, the semester was over and we were still talking everyday.”

“That is _so_ romantic. So who is this boy?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t know his name or what he looks like or many other details,” she confessed.

“So how can you possibly like him?”

Lydia stirred her coffee and thought about how late she’d been up explaining compound mathematical theorems to the only person in the world who would let her. Well, _one_ of the only people. She had a sneaking suspicious Stiles would also be okay with it.

“Because we talk a lot. About anything and everything and nothing and whatever’s in between.” 

“And you can’t figure out who he is?”

“Well, we don’t talk about anything too personal. I mean, we tell each other our problems and about our days and our favorite things, but we keep everything vague enough that it’s not too specific. He’s become the person I talk to the most, actually. Well, besides Stiles probably.”

Kira was practically vibrating with excitement. “This is so exciting! I’ve never seen you like this about a boy.” 

“That’s because I never get invested in the male species, you know that. But this one just feels different.” Her instincts kicked in then, and she sat back to seem disinterested. “I don’t know. Is this stupid? Maybe I should just forget it.” 

“It’s not stupid,” Kira told her so sincerely that Lydia immediately believed it as a fact.

“So I shouldn’t forget it then?” Lydia asked, knowing there was only one answer she was looking for.

Kira didn’t answer right away. She wanted to really think about it. She bit her lip and her eyes darted from side to side, like she was reading directions or trying to solve a riddle. 

“Could he be a murderer?" she asked finally. "Or like, a psychopath who cuts people up and eats them?”

“I don’t think there were any cannibals in my communications class, but I guess you can never be too sure.”

“Any murderers?” 

“Just like, two. The odds that they’re my pen pal are really slim.” 

Kira tried to glare at her friend but couldn’t help cracking up. “It would really help ease my mind if you could be serious! The internet can be a scary place!” 

“I’m not talking to some random perv on the internet, Kira. I’m talking to one of our classmates. My professor organized it. It’s legitimate. The only thing that’s scary about it is what I’m feeling for him.” 

Kira gave Lydia an empathetic look and smiled. “Well then I don’t think you’d be able to “just forget it” if you tried.”

Lydia knew she was right, but she also trusted Kira above almost anyone else. If she had told her to move on, Lydia would have given it an honest shot. She couldn’t in good faith pursue this strange approach to love without the approval of her best friend.

“Is this crazy?”

“Definitely.”

“Should I stop?”

“Absolutely not.”

 

 

 

 

 

They stood next to each other and studied all of the evidence they had added to their board. Stiles had been holding half of their evidence – well, it was thrown on the floor of his jeep – and Lydia had the other half, neatly organized into several folders on her laptop, so they decided it would be a good idea just to get together and put everything into one place.

What had started as just a chart with games where incidents happened and a circle graph of students who bought tickets had grown into an organized diagram with descriptions of the three males they were looking for, pictures of the vandalized statue and the dates where it occurred, and a map of where students were being jumped. Slowly but surely they were making progress. Lydia knew they were just circling their answer.

“I think we need to put the areas of attacks next to the dates. It would help paint the picture better,” Lydia decided, walking over to her desk to get the tape. When she found it, she tossed it to Stiles because he was closer to the board. However, instead of catching it with ease, as she assumed he would, he flinched and it fell to the floor after dropping from his loose grasp.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” he asked casually as he leaned down to pick the tape up with his other hand. 

“You winced.” 

“I have a bad elbow.” 

“It was your hand.” She walked back over to stand between him and the board. 

“Pain radiates. It does that.”

He moved to go around her and re-tape the pictures, but she moved to block him. Before he could get away, she grabbed his wrist and looked for whatever he was trying to keep from her.

Her mouth fell open when she saw his hand. His knuckles were a deep shade of red, bruising on every bone. “What is that.” She rephrased her earlier question and spoke more sternly. 

He pulled his wrist away. “It’s not a big deal. It’s nothing.”

“Not a big deal? Stiles, your hand needs to be bandaged.” She made to grab for it again but he was quicker this time and moved it away before she could. When she saw the way he wouldn’t look her in the eyes, and the way he was flexing his hand like it was still in pain, she took a step back to ease his nerves. “What happened?”

Stiles sighed and sat down on her bed. “I got in a fight, okay? Well, I threw one punch and then ran, but “fight” sounds better.”

He looked up to see if she cracked a smile at that but instead he found her scowling with her arms folded across her chest.

“With who?”

“Some kid at Devenford Prep.”

“Stiles! What were you even doing there?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, which made her even angrier.

“Hey!” she nudged him on the arm to snap him out of it. It worked.

He stood back up, clearly annoyed now rather than full of self-pity. “I was pissed off, okay? I just got frustrated with all of this-“

“You don’t think I’m frustrated? You don’t see me running off to fight anyone!” She was too close to him now, leaning up so that she was inches from his face. Apparently she was pushing his buttons as well because he had gotten closer to her in the heat of the moment too.

“He was drunk, and he was being obnoxious.”

“I don’t care! You could have gotten hurt!”

“So what?” He asked. She rolled her eyes at his ridiculousness. “I mean it. So what? Those guys hurt me before and no one did a damn thing about it. People are getting hurt around here all the time and we’re the only ones who seem to be paying attention! It would’ve just been another-“

“Don’t do that! Don’t act like this isn’t a big deal! There’s a big difference between getting jumped and seeking out a fight with some random guy.”

“I didn’t seek him out. He was drunk!” Stiles yelled.

“You shouldn’t have gone! God, what aren’t you getting about this? _You could have gotten hurt!”_ she repeated, somehow louder this time.

Stiles was about to yell something but instead he swallowed it and took a deep calming breath. He walked away from her and sat back down on the bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as his legs tapped up and down too restlessly.

Lydia looked at him, how nervous he seemed to be, and sighed. She knelt down under her bed and pulled out a first aid kit she had bought for her dorm just in case. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said. 

“What are you sorry for? I’m the one who messed up.” 

“Oh, I know that.” She reached for his hand and started wrapping the bandage around it. “I’m just sorry for yelling. When I’m worried I tend to get a little… passionate.”

Stiles stared down and watched her mend his injury. “Well, I needed to hear it. I wasn’t thinking last night, and it could have ended a lot worse. I just ended up at their school, and this guy bumped into me and then threw a freaking bottle and… I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Why didn’t you just call me?... Malia, I mean. Why didn’t you call her?”

His head jerked up at her minor slip up of words, but she refused to meet his eyes. He studied her for what felt like an eternity before looking back down at their hands. 

“Uh... I don’t know. I didn’t really want to admit that I had even gone there. I kind of did it in a spontaneous fury. And that’s just not who I am. I’m not the angry, go-punch-some-guy-to-feel-better kind of person.”

She almost didn’t even want to ask the next question, but she had to know everything about this horrible incident. “What did you do after you hit him?” 

He looked her right in the eye, almost like he was expecting her to ask that. All the fight was out of him. “I ran.”

“Stiles…” was all she could say.

“I saw some people headed directly for us so I figured they would help him. I don’t know. I didn’t even turn to make sure they did. I just took off in my car. I think that’s the worst part.” 

“Me too.” 

They sat in silence as she finished wrapping his hand. When she was done, she put everything in her first aid kit back and then sat down next to him again, shoulders touching.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked quietly.

Part of her was; what if something had happened to him? Or the guy he had punched? He could have gotten in trouble, expelled, or worse. And then what would she do?

And as soon as that question popped into her head, the other part of her didn’t want to be mad at all. She didn’t _want_ to care. So what if he got kicked out of school? Lydia didn’t need him. She had plenty of other people in her life. Stiles Stilinski’s whereabouts should not make any difference to her mood.

She didn’t feel like lying, though, so instead she dodged the question altogether. She smiled at him. “Truth be told, I’m just happy you didn’t have your baseball bat on you.” 

“Jesus, Lydia. I’m not a psycho.” 

“No, you’re just an idiot.” 

He nodded in agreement, and all of their tension dissipated. Then he cleared his throat and stood to leave.

“So, yeah, I think we did good today, getting all of our information together.”

“Yeah, definitely. You should go and ice your hand,” she said, standing to open the door for him. “Maybe find a way to release your anger that doesn’t involve assault. I, for example, like to draw when I get frustrated. I’m sure there’s something we could find to help you.”

“Yeah, art lessons. That’s what I need,” he muttered sarcastically.

“Well, unfortunately for you art is out of the question until the swelling in your hand goes down,” she bit back. Then she swallowed her anger and replaced it with a happier tone. “I can’t help tonight, though. I might try to follow up with this other lead I was thinking about the other day. It’s probably nothing but worth a shot.” 

He walked into the hall, and she almost let him just walk away. But she figured she had already done enough damage to her ego that night, between caring way too much about this idiot’s hand and accidentally questioning why he didn’t call her, that anything more wouldn’t have made a difference.

“Hey,” she called. He stopped and walked back a few steps so he was just a few feet away. “You know, sometimes anger can be motivation to do something good, like solve this mystery.”

“Yeah, I’ll try to remember that next time I’m about to break someone’s nose.” 

“I’m just saying… it’s not all that bad to be the angry guy sometimes. _Sometimes_. You got carried away this time, but maybe next time it will just push you to work harder or something. I don’t know.” Then, because he needed to hear it, she added, “You’ll be okay.”

Then she shut the door, leaving him standing there in the hallway holding his throbbing hand with a look of amazement on his face that he only seemed to get around Lydia Martin.

 

 

 

 

“Aidan, it’s me.”

“Miss me already? It’s only been a few hours, but I can come over if you want.” She could tell he was smiling through the phone, which only annoyed her more. 

Lydia pretended to consider it. “Mmm, pass. I was actually calling to see if you could do me a favor. I know this is uncharted territory for you, so a “favor” is when you help someone. It’s an action that is beneficial to the other person. Are you confused?” 

He wasn’t amused. “What do you want, Lydia?” 

She made her voice sound sweeter this time. “I kind of remember you mentioning that you help out with the athletic department. You know, working the food stand, selling t-shirts…”

Aiden snorted. “Yeah, only because I got caught riding my motorcycle too fast in the school parking lot and got stuck with service hours. Look, if you’re asking for tickets-“ 

“No, no not at all. I just figured you maybe had some behind-the-scenes connections with people who organize the games. Like, oh, I don’t know, the ticket sales department?” 

“Hmmm. Maybe I could pull some strings… If there was something in it for me.”

She rolled her eyes, thankful that they were only talking on the phone and he couldn’t see her face. She used her most seductive voice as she continued folding her laundry. “If you did this one, tiny little thing for me, I’d be sure to reward you _generously_.”

She knew even the idea would be enough motivation for him to get her those sales receipts. He agreed, and she tossed her phone onto her bed. 

She couldn’t wait to get what she wanted from him so that she could dump him right after.

 

 

 

 

 

LITTLEMERMAID: I told my best friend about you today.

SOLOJEDI: Oh yeah? What’d she say about all of this?

LITTLEMERMAID: She asked if you were a murderer or a cannibal.

SOLOJEDI: What did you tell her?

LITTLEMERMAID: I said you probably weren’t, but that I guess there’s no real way of knowing that anyone isn’t secretly a murderer or a cannibal.

SOLOJEDI: Would it help if I told you that I’m none of the above? 

LITTLEMERMAID: If you were any of the above, you probably would deny it.

SOLOJEDI: True, I guess. I wish I could Google “how to prove you’re not a murderer or a cannibal” but that seems like the first thing you would do if you were one.

LITTLEMERMAID: Yeah, if anyone stumbled upon your search history that wouldn’t look too good for you.

SOLOJEDI: LOL. I guess when we inevitably meet I can prove the cannibal thing by eating regular food. Do cannibals _only_ eat humans? Yet another thing that could be a handy Google search. 

LITTLEMERMAID: I don’t know the day-to-day eating habits of cannibals. I’m not one either.

SOLOJEDI: What about a murderer?

LITTLEMERMAID: Nope. You’re right though, that’s a hard thing to prove that you’re not to someone. I guess when we do meet we’ll both eat regular food and not kill anyone.

SOLOJEDI: Man, what a weird thing to decide on.

LITTLEMERMAID: Yeah, well, this is the weirdest conversation I've ever had.

SOLOJEDI: I think it's the funniest one I've ever had. Definitely the best one this week.

LITTLEMERMAID: Sounds like you've had kind of a crappy week then. Sorry.

SOLOJEDI: Nah, don’t be. It’s getting better.


	19. Chapter 19

March 29th

 

 

 

Stiles wasn’t his usual nervous, fidgety self. He also wasn’t heartbroken, or even all that sad. He was just tired of dancing around the obvious and wanted to get it over with, which was probably the most discernible indication that this needed to be done.

They were driving back to campus in her car after going on a date for the first time in weeks. Actually, Stiles wouldn’t even call it a date. They barely spoke to each other.

He didn’t know how to say it, but he knew he couldn’t let it go on any longer, so as soon as she parked her car, he said. “Malia, listen-“

“This thing is over, isn’t it?” she interrupted. After seeing how surprised he was that she had guessed his next words, she continued, “Look, something has been off for a while now. You know it, you’re either just too nice, scared or oblivious to say anything.”

He sighed, realizing she deserved answers after being so open with him. “I like you a lot, you know. There was never a bad moment. Maybe… Maybe that means we’re just supposed to be friends.”

“Being happy all the time never seemed like a bad thing to me.”

“It did to me. It matters. Neither of us cared enough to fight.” 

She seemed to understand the problem then. She turned her head so that she couldn’t see him and stared out the window. “I deserve better than that in a relationship.” 

“Yeah. You do.” 

She turned back to him, and they smiled at each other. Malia wasn’t the type to get more emotional than that. So Stiles said goodbye and got out of her car. She drove away before he could second-guess anything.

After approximately four seconds, though, his brain did in fact start second-guessing. And triple-guessing. And his anxiety made him simultaneously want to call Malia and also delete her number and never date anyone ever again or even step outside his dorm. Never a dull moment in the brain of Stiles Stilinski. 

He needed to get away from himself, to talk to another human being who could take his mind off of everything.

Mostly out of habit, Stiles immediately pulled his phone out to talk to his pen pal. 

SOLOJEDI: So, my girlfriend and I just broke up. Did I tell you I had a girlfriend? It’s kind of funny the way we know so much about each other but then also, we don’t know that much at all. Anyways, I guess I just needed to talk to someone. Even though we ended things as friends and I have my roommate who is also my best friend and lots of kids at school to hang out with, I just feel kind of….lonely. Which is pathetic and I hate this pity party I’m having for myself right now but you always know what to say. Man, I wish I could hang out with you. I think you’re the only one who could make me feel bett- 

He stopped typing and deleted the entire message. He did have someone who could make him feel better. Someone he could sit and talk with. A friend.

He was outside of Lydia’s dorm before he even really thought to question it. He knocked twice before realizing he should have called first, but then the door was opening and it all happened very fast.

“Hey.” He said it like he had just gotten caught doing something bad but was trying to sound casual.

“Hey,” she said back, looking confused. She had her hair in a high ponytail and sweatpants on. “Did we have plans to meet up today?”

“No, no. I just… Can I hang out for a little while? Scott and Kira are in my dorm, and I don’t feel like seeing them.” In the moment, it was a lie. He had no idea if they were in his dorm or not. But in retrospect, he figured it was actually probably true. 

She opened the door wider to allow him to come in.

He could tell she wanted to ask, so he said it before she had to. “Normally I’d go over Malia’s, but… We kind of broke up.”

“What? Why?” Was it just his imagination or did she sound not _that_ surprised?

He couldn’t bear to explain the whole “too happy” concept to her or anyone else ever again, so he scratched the back of his head, sat on her bed, and was brutally honest. “I like Malia. A lot. Maybe I even love her. But-“

“But you’re not _in_ love with her.”

His eyes jumped to hers. “Yeah, exactly. How did you know that?”

She just stared at him for a moment before shrugging. Stiles wanted to know what exactly that had meant but she changed the subject before he could ask.

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I am. Really. I mean, it sucks, I guess. But if we were meant to be or something I’d definitely be sadder. And this has been gradually coming for a long time.”

“Doesn’t make it hurt less,” she said, grabbing two water bottles from her mini-fridge. “When you’re dating someone, you’re a couple with them. You come in a pair. So when you break up, you’re alone for the first time in a while. It’s the loneliest feeling in the world.”

Stiles couldn’t find the words to speak. It even took him a while before he could grab the water she was handing him. Luckily, she either didn’t notice or chose to ignore his momentary stroke.

“So there was no big fight or anything? It just… happened?”

“Yeah, it’s all very anti-climactic and messy and mind-numbing and I just needed a little distraction before I have to shamefully move all of the things I left in her dorm back into my place.” 

“Well, if a distraction is what you’re after, I have just the thing.” She looked around her desk and cleared off some papers to reveal a pile of textbooks, but didn’t find whatever she was looking for so she moved on to check her purse.

To this day, Stiles could never figure out what exactly made him want to check out the pile of textbooks on her messy desk. Sure, he had always been inquisitive, but not about boring crap. However, for some reason, while Lydia was preoccupied emptying her purse, he walked over and sifted through the pile of books, his eyes landing on one that looked familiar.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were taking Intro to Interpersonal Communication.”

“What?” she flipped her hair over her shoulder to see what he was talking about. “Oh, I’m not. I took that last semester. I’m going down to the bookstore later to sell those books back and- Oh, you know what? I was in my friend Meredith’s room down the hall earlier. I must have left it there. I’ll be back in a sec.” 

She ran out before he knew it, and he realized he was in her room alone. He’d been there at least a hundred times by then, but this time he wasn’t busy working on the newspaper case. He walked over to her bookshelf and found everything he would have expected: credit cards to an array of expensive designer stores and books about archaic Latin.

There was one shelf that stood out to him, though. It had nothing on it that the Lydia he knew would have. Actually, it had not much of anything on it, just a lot of _one_ thing. 

The Little Mermaid. 

The shelf was covered in stuff about The Little Mermaid. He saw a VHS, 2 copies of the DVD – one was the special anniversary edition and the other had an extra disc of bonus features. There was a soundtrack from the movie and the Broadway play, along with a ticket stub from when she evidently saw it and a playbill. She even had a book of the original fairytale. At the end propping everything up was both a doll of Ariel _and_ a Barbie.

“Hey, Meredith was on the phone so I just grabbed what I needed real quick,” Lydia said as she put a big folder down on her bed. She was oblivious to him and his discovery, concerned only with whatever it was she had been working on.

“Uh, can I ask you something? What’s with all this Little Mermaid stuff?”

She finally stopped running around so frantically and looked at him, realizing he had been paying more attention to the shelf than to her.

“I used to read the book every night with my Grandma,” she told him, a small, sad smile on her face. “I got so obsessed with it, for three months I wouldn't respond to anything but Ariel. It drove my parents crazy, but Grandma thought it was adorable. When she died… I kind of became obsessed all over again, buying any and everything that had to do with Ariel.”

“That’s sweet,” Stiles said, but it sounded entirely insincere since his mind was working a million miles a minute about an entirely different topic. “Why have I never noticed this before?” he whispered more to himself than to her. 

“What’s with you? Are you _sure_ you’re okay?”

“What? Nothing. I just… I think I have strep throat.”

“You just got strep throat in the last three minutes?”

“Yeah, my immune system is like, broken. Also, it’s kind of a mental game, you know? And I could use some sick days so maybe I didn’t fight it off hard enough, right?” He wasn’t even sure what he was saying, but he was making his way to the door as fast as possible to avoid any further questions.

“Okay, but I really wanted to show you this stuff I got for the case. It’s actually-“

“Sounds good, Lydia. That’s great progress. We’ll definitely move forward with that… um, presently.”

“Stiles!” She stood up from her bed and was in the middle of her room glaring at him as he stood like an idiot with his hand on the doorknob. 

“I’m sorry. I just, I really have to go.” He turned, but stopped when something popped into his head that could maybe give him some clarity. “Hey… have you ever seen The Notebook?” 

At that moment, Stiles knew that Lydia thought he had absolutely lost his mind. Like, needed-to-be-locked-away level crazy. But she was clearly tired of trying to figure out whatever was happening, so she put her hands on her hips and answered him.

“Hasn’t every girl?”

He opened his mouth to tell her that actually Malia thought it looked too sappy and he remembered Kira had tried to watch it with Scott but she fell asleep five minutes in and had never gotten back around to it. Instead, he turned and practically bolted down the hallway. 

Okay. His pen pal was not Lydia Martin. A lot of other girls loved Disney princesses and watched The Notebook. It was pure coincidence that she just happened to be in the same course as him last semester.

There is no way he had been talking to her online for months and didn’t know it. They were exact opposites. Lydia was in her own little world. She wouldn’t care enough to listen to him rant about the upkeep of his jeep or why there should be a science fiction category at the Oscars.

When he got back to his dorm, he opened his laptop to read back through their messages. They were so frustratingly vague in hindsight. He would never be able to prove if it was Lydia. 

He leaned back in his chair. It couldn’t be. He hadn’t worked so hard to get over this girl just to accidentally fall for her again, just to set himself up to get rejected from another girl who had become very important to him.

It truly wasn’t until that moment that he realized he had fallen in the first place. Maybe while he was dating Malia he hadn’t let his mind even go there. Maybe it was because now there was the chance that he would lose his pen pal to a girl who already made it perfectly clear she wasn’t interested in him like that. 

No. Lydia Martin was _not_ his pen pal. Last semester he was invisible to her; pretty much everyone who didn’t own a yacht was. And his pen pal had talked with him about deep topics and she’d made him laugh and she gave him advice. Lydia was probably at parties while all of that was happening. 

He focused on their differences and calmed himself down. His mind always worked too fast and made him jump to conclusions. This was ridiculous. Lydia had become his good friend, and his online friend had become one of his most trusted confidants. They were two separate people who he had come to know very well.

Just as he was about to shut his laptop and accept the fact that he would never know for sure, an email popped up.

 

LITTLEMERMAID: I think we should meet.


	20. Chapter 20

April 2nd

 

 

Lydia sat on the bench outside of the library and obsessively evened out nonexistent wrinkles in her skirt. She had arrived twenty minutes early, and she was nervous. Very nervous. Or maybe just a regular amount of nervous; she wasn’t very familiar with the emotion.

She looked at her phone. Ten minutes.

Whatever had come over her a few days ago, she’d never know. She had been going back to her conversation with Kira and kept thinking about how stupid she’d sounded saying she liked this boy when she didn’t even know who he was. So without letting herself think too much about it, she’d sent him the message saying they should meet. One agonizingly long minute later, he responded saying that he was thinking the same thing.

Which was why she found herself in their meeting spot, with five minutes left until the designated time they’d agreed on, her copy of The Notebook sitting on her lap just in case he needed help spotting her, and questioning everything she had ever done leading up to that point.

“Hey.”

She smiled to herself knowing it was him. All she had to do was turn her head, and she would finally see the boy that knew her inside and out, the boy she had fallen for. She just had to look up, and she would see-

“ _Stiles_? What the hell are you doing here?" 

“Nice to see you, too.”

“Sorry,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

“I was just wandering around campus looking for someone who had a spare copy of The Notebook handy.”

“This isn’t for you.”

“It’s not?” he asked. There was a beat of silence and an expression on Stiles’ face she couldn’t quite place before he continued. “Well then this is some coincidence, isn’t it? I never go to the library. And you never sit outside of it. Do you mind?” He gestured to the spot beside her on the bench and then sat down without waiting for her answer.

“I do mind, actually. I’m sorry, but I’m meeting someone, and he’ll be here any minute. You have to go.”

For a second she thought she offended him, but he bounced back as quick as he always did. “I’ll leave when your friend gets here. I’m sure he appreciates a nice warmed up seat. What is this anyway?” He reached for The Notebook and glanced over the back of it. 

She sighed, looking at her phone again. “It’s a DVD, Stiles.”

“Yeah, context clues actually helped me get that far on my own. Why do you have it with you?” 

She had three minutes to kill before he would arrive, so she decided to be honest with Stiles. He knew plenty of her other secrets anyway.

“I have that because it’s kind of a little thing between me and the person I am meeting here. We’ve talked about it a lot before, so I guess I’m hoping if he sees it…” 

“He’ll remember all of your great conversations about it? Late nights meticulously critiquing it? Maybe you even watched it together.”

“Exactly. We did.”

“So tell me,” Stiles started, spinning the DVD case in between his hands. “Is he the type of guy who pretends he liked the ending for you? Or is he honest and says it was crap.”

“It was not crap!”

“Yes it was.” 

“No it wasn’t.” 

“Yes it was.”

“Stiles.” 

“Fine, fine,” he said, putting his hands up to surrender. “I’m just saying I hope whoever you’re meeting here is as honest as I am, you know? Someone who doesn’t spare your feelings because he knows you can handle it. Someone who’s witty and funny and athletic…” 

“He’s got a great sense of humor, actually. And he’s always honest with me, but he’s also kind. And he’s intellig- Stiles, you are not athletic.”

He waved his hand dismissively and changed the subject. “If I wanted to tell you about a crazy dream I had…”

She zoned out then, looking around his head to see if anyone was walking towards them. He was officially late.

“Or rant about popular kids who think they’re better than us all… “

She looked around to see if there was another bench he might have been waiting at. 

“Would you listen?”

She checked her phone again. He was very late.

“Lydia! I’m asking you if you would listen to me if I-“

“Stiles, I’m not even listening to you _right now,_ ” she snapped. “I don’t have time for any of your immature games! I don’t care about today’s spastic tirade or what’s happening with some baseball team or whatever weird dream you had last night, okay?”

As soon as the words finished spilling out of her mouth she regretted them. But she was very on edge because she had come to the depressingly obvious realization that she had been stood up. She felt stupid and embarrassed and Stiles wasn’t helping.

She couldn’t even bear to look at him, but she could tell he was looking down at his hands in his lap.

When he finally spoke, it was quieter than she had ever heard him. “You still think of me as some stupid kid who just follows you around?”

She didn’t. Of course she didn’t. But she was afraid if she opened her mouth again she would somehow hurt his feelings even more, so she sat frozen on the spot.

“I get it. Uh, well, listen. I’m gonna get going. I was headed for the library to meet someone…. Um, for a group project, but I actually think I got the timing all wrong. The time, I mean.” He coughed awkwardly and put her DVD of The Notebook on the bench in between them.

He got up and took two steps before turning back to her. “I hope when the guy of your dreams does show up, he’s nothing like me.” He smiled like it was a joke to lighten the mood but it wasn’t funny to either of them. “Sorry for wasting your time. I’ll see you around.”

Lydia wasn’t sure if she was going to cry or throw up. She watched him walk away, considered more than once chasing after him, but she was too mad and upset and embarrassed and disappointed all at once. 

She checked her phone one last time. She had no messages. He wasn’t coming. She picked up The Notebook and threw it.

She walked home in a daze.

 

 

 

Lydia rolled over onto her side. She figured there were three possibilities for why her pen pal didn’t show today. The first one, which would be her most preferable option, was that he was scared. She hoped for that option because she could understand it, relate to it even. She was still furious, of course. Why couldn’t he talk to her? Why couldn’t he message her and tell her he wasn’t coming? If he was just scared, he wouldn’t have been cruel.

She glanced at the clock. Well after midnight. That meant she had been tossing and turning for two hours already.

The second option, which she figured was the most likely, was that he lost interest. Maybe when the mystery was about to be revealed, he realized he didn’t want her or need her. Maybe he’d gone back over some of their messages and decided she was nothing special. Or worse, what if none of their conversations had even been real? What if it was all a joke? See how long he could string this clueless loser along until it got too pathetic and stopped being fun. Maybe he even had a bet with his friends going. Maybe they’re had been a crowd of guys around the computer screen laughing at her deepest secrets.

Lydia covered her face with her pillow. She wanted to scream, but in a strange way, that would make this all real. If she just lay there quietly, maybe she was already asleep.

The third and final option was the worst of them all. She hoped that it was only her emotions and lack of sleep that not only planted the idea in her head, but also made it the only one she couldn’t stop thinking about. Option three was that her pen pal had shown up right on time, seen her, and left. Lydia could admit she was pretty popular on campus and most people knew who she was. So what if her pen pal saw her and already had his mind made up? Maybe she’d been rude to him before or ignored him. Maybe he had been expecting someone friendlier or quieter or worldlier. Then, in the back of her mind, in the saddest and most shallow part, she wondered…. Maybe he had been expecting someone prettier.

By the time the sun came up, Lydia had managed to convince herself that her pen pal had been messing with her the entire time and then ditched her because she was too shallow. She got out of bed and made tea, giving up on sleep entirely.

Mostly on instinct, she opened her laptop with her warm mug balanced in one hand. It was a habit now: whenever she felt like talking, she turned to her pen pal.

“Damn him,” she muttered, wondering where to start first.

 

LITTLEMERMAID: I couldn’t sleep last night because I was thinking about you. Not in the good way, as I have been lately. Mostly I am just overwhelmingly disappointed. I went to meet you, and you never showed up. I don’t expect much from boys, but I expected more of you. I felt so humiliated. And as I waited for you, someone else showed up. A friend who has a good heart and who would do anything to make me laugh. All he did was try to talk to me – incessantly, though that’s how he always is, and do you know what I did because of you? I upset him. I was so cold. I don’t know if he’ll ever forgive me, and I don’t know if I’d deserve it anyway. Anyway, lately you’re the person I go to when I mess up or when I’m sad or… for anything, really. To some people, talking online is meaningless. It’s just empty messages to pass time. Maybe that’s all this was to you. But I want you to know that even after what happened, it has meant something to me, more than you will ever know. So thank you.

 

It was hours before she heard anything back from him.

 

SOLOJEDI: I can’t explain what happened yesterday. But really, is there any excuse that would be good enough? I don’t think so. Hurting you is something I will never forgive myself for, so I don’t expect you to either. I feel awful, I really do. Please don’t think it had anything to do with you, and I didn’t (technically) chicken out, either. It’s… complicated. And I hope you’re not being too hard on yourself for what you did to your friend. I’d like to think I know you pretty well, so I also know whatever you said was well deserved. Maybe he needed to hear it. Any true friend will understand, and I’m sure he is already over it because he probably could see that you were really upset about something else. Since I put you in that exact situation, I’m to blame. Someday I will explain everything, I promise. But in the meantime, I’m still here if you want to talk.

LITTLEMERMAID: I shouldn’t want to talk to you. Do you know I brought my copy of The Notebook with me to that bench? I was going to let you keep it. I’m trying to make you feel even worse. 

SOLOJEDI: It’s working.

LITTLEMERMAID: Good. Listen, I know the thought of meeting is scary. I was terrified, quite frankly. I’ve built you up so much in my head these last few months, and what if I was disappointed when I met you? What if you were mean in person or too quiet or shorter than me? (Shallow, I know, but I can’t help it.) Or what if I was a letdown when you met me? I can be selfish and condescending and sometimes I worry my eyes are too big. What I’m trying to say is that I understand not wanting to meet. I just hope one day we can.

SOLOJEDI: For now, all I can say is that I know, with 100% certainty, I would not be letdown upon meeting you.


	21. Chapter 21

April 7th

 

 

Stiles lay in his bed for the fifth consecutive hour of the fifth consecutive day. Not only was his mind a mess, but physically, it was like his body was feeling the effects of his fight with Lydia as well. He had a high fever, could barely breathe, was coughing nonstop, and his bones ached.

Could he have gone to the nurse days ago to get some medicine? Well, yes. But that would require him to get out bed and talk and be a functioning human being. Plus, if he felt better, he’d have no excuse to still be wallowing in self-pity over the chaos he created.

No matter what he did, someone was going to get hurt. He was stuck. If he stopped messaging Online Lydia, she’d feel humiliated and abandoned all over again. If he continued emailing her, he’d feel like he was messing with Real Life Lydia. If he came clean about the whole thing to her, she’d be disappointed it was him, and he’d have his heart broken all over again, and so would Online Lydia. It was like one giant maze with no way out, which is why he hadn’t even tried. He hadn’t spoken to either version of Lydia since that day on the bench and the emails afterwards.

He thought back to those emails. He had typed up at least 50 drafts before settling on the closest thing to the truth he could muster. First he had said he had gotten kicked out of school. Then he said he had a deadly disease, and he had to go to Iceland to get the cure. After that, he said a class ran late, his dad grounded him, he broke his leg, there was a power outage in his dorm and his phone died, he got locked out after taking a shower, someone found a wounded animal that he had to help take care of and many more ridiculously unbelievable lies. 

He rolled over, covered his head with his blanket, and tried to think of a way to send himself a computer virus so that maybe he could disappear online without feeling too guilty.

“Stiles, come out from under your blankets. You’re in college. Go take a shower or something. You’re bumming me out.”

Scott was concentrating on playing a video game. He insisted on setting up their gaming system with only one month of school left, which meant he had been sitting there playing as much as possible the last few days so he saw Stiles laying around the whole time and not changing out of his ratty old Beatles t-shirt and pajama pants with little Death Stars all over them.

He pulled his blankets off but didn’t sit up. One step at a time. “I’m only laying under here so I don’t get you sick with whatever life-threatening and incurable virus I probably have. Otherwise, I’m completely and totally fine.”

“Save it. I know a broken heart when I see one.” 

“You do?”

“Well, no. But Kira talked to Malia so I know you two broke up.”

Stiles knew he had to tell him everything then. Honestly, he would have told him all about his feelings for Malia weeks ago but between the newspaper, their classes, and the fact that they were both in relationships, they didn’t really have much time for a sit down dissection of the rise and fall of Stiles’ love life. He decided to start from the beginning.

“Okay, yeah Malia and I broke up. But this is actually about something else. Do you remember that extra credit I told you about at the beginning of last semester?”

“No,” Scott said without giving it much thought.

Stiles walked over to stand directly in front of the television, ignoring the pounding in his head when he stood up. “Come on. Think about it.”

“Dude, I don’t remember all of your assignments. I have enough trouble remembering my own.”

“This one was for extra credit. I had to email with someone I didn’t know.”

Scott seemed to realize Stiles wasn’t going to move, so he tossed the controller onto the floor. “Okay… uh… yeah, I remember. The pen pal thing.”

Stiles walked back over to his bed and sat on its edge. He told him about the emails and how he had grown to care about the girl on the receiving end. He told him how he thought Malia was amazing, that there was a time when he really, genuinely wanted to be with her and to love her and to be happy without Lydia. He told him how that didn’t work, but that throughout all of that, his pen pal had been there. He told him how earlier in the week he had put all the puzzle pieces together and realized that Lydia was the pen pal.

“What the hell?!”

Stiles sneezed. “I know.”

“So, in two entirely different scenarios, you have fallen in love with Lydia Martin.”

“I’m not in love with her,” Stiles responded, though he didn’t put much effort into making it sound convincing.

“I’d have to be a complete idiot to think you don’t like her still.”

“Come on, it is _not_ that obvious.” He sneezed again.

“To me it is. I mean, it’s different now. You’re able to, like, see other girls in the world. And you can talk to her without babbling on and on-“ 

“Get to your point, please.” 

“But you still care about her more than probably anyone. Her opinion matters most to you. You’d do anything to make her happy.”

Stiles groaned and fell back onto the bed, fixing the blanket so that it was tightly wrapped around his entire body again. “So what if I stop emailing her? I just break it off and become a distant memory. She’d feel awful. But if I go for it and tell her it’s me… I don’t know, man. I tried that once. I told her how I felt and nothing happened. If she hadn’t corrected me about the logistics of the Nobel Prize, I wouldn’t even know that she heard me. Yeah, it’s different now, but what if it’s not that different? If I have to go through that again I think I’ll transfer schools. Somewhere far away, like Florida, maybe. I hear the weather is lovely.”

Scott laughed and didn’t seem like he was going to help at all, so Stiles asked him flat out.

“What do you think I should do?”

“You want my advice?”

“Well I’ve gone over this and over this and I can’t convince myself to do anything one way or the other which is why I have been laying around all freaking week doing nothing which is why I will eventually die old and alone and no one will even notice until the mailman comes by with my monthly delivery of fast food coupons and he smells something coming from inside my house and has to call the cops and say that the weird bearded man on Chestnut Street might be dead.” He stopped to force a tense laugh, which thereafter caused a short coughing fit. “Okay? So, buddy, if you can say anything to me that I haven’t thought of already, some life-changing piece of wisdom that will provide me with an ounce of clarity, I’m all ears.” 

Scott thought deeply for a moment, and then prepared himself to instruct Stiles on what to do. Stiles looked his friend in the eye and readied himself to memorize all of his best friend’s instructions.

“Alright. I think I can sum everything up in just three words.” He paused for dramatic effect, and Stiles impatiently motioned for him to continue. “Dude, it’s Lydia.”

“It’s Lydia,” Stiles repeated, thinking that maybe hearing it again would give him the answer.

“It’s Lydia. She’s your… It’s like, the only girl that you’ve ever… I mean, even when you were…” He couldn’t seem to find the words to explain his reasoning, so he just sighed and said it again. “Dude, it’s _Lydia_.”

Stiles understood him, though.

 

 

 

A few hours later, Stiles blew his nose and threw the tissue into the overflowing trashcan next to his bed. He tried to breathe through his nose, failed, and grabbed another tissue to blow some more. In his free hand, he was scrolling through the symptoms checklist page on WebMD. That was where he miserably sat in his bed when when he heard a key in the door and saw the knob turn.

At first he thought the strawberry blonde hair and flowered dress were some kind of flu-hallucination, but then she smiled at him and he knew it had to be real; she was always somehow more beautiful in reality.

She stood awkwardly in the doorway. “Can I come in? I didn’t want to make you get up to open the door, and I bumped into Kira who let me borrow the key. I know you probably don’t-“ 

“Of course you can come in.” _You can come in forever. You can move in. You can literally have this dorm if it will make you happy,_ he thought. Then he wondered how high his fever was. He looked around at the mess that was his room and hoped she wasn’t here to make him work on the paper. “Uh… what are you doing here, though?” 

“I heard you were sick,” she said as she made herself at home and put a container in the microwave. “And I wanted to make sure you were… Stiles, have you taken any medicine? Or seen the nurse on campus?” She walked over to him and put her hand on his head. “You don’t look so good.”

He groaned and sat up, pulling his blankets up with him because he was freezing. “I think it’s West Nile. You know, that mosquito disease? I’ve been on WebMD-“

“Stiles, the last thing someone with an overactive imagination needs is a website that presents the worst possible scenario as the most likely option.” She grabbed his phone and put it on his desk. “Did you ever consider the possibility that you are one of the billion, yes billion with a B, cases of the common cold that this country will see this year?” 

“Doesn’t that seem just a little too obvious?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Okay, just hear me out. I was reading up on some cases of West Nile and there was this girl, Kathy Something. Jones or Johnson or Jiminey, I don’t know. So Kathy has a runny nose and she’s coughing up a fit and has a fever and she writes it off as a cold. Do you know what happened to poor Kathy? A mosquito murdered her, Lydia. And maybe if she had jumped to the worst possible conclusion right away, she would have been able to fight it off. But I guess we’ll never know because Kathy was an optimistic moron,” he sighed, sniffed his nose, and then added, “May she rest in peace.”

Lydia handed him a little cup of purple liquid, and he downed it in one gulp while she went back to wait by the microwave.

“Maybe you are hoping you were bit by a mosquito because if it was radioactive you can be like that one superhero,” Lydia said, gesturing to some of the comic book covers he had taped to his dorm wall.

Stiles sighed. “ _Spiderman_ , Lydia. And he was bit by a _spider_.”

“Hm, what would your superpowers be?” she asked, ignoring him. “A lightening fast ability to overanalyze and overreact.”

“Okay-“

“We could call you… Dramaboy. Or man, if it would make you feel better.”

He pretended to crack up at her insult while she genuinely laughed at her own jokes.

“Well it was nice of you to stop by to laugh at my expense and kick me while I’m down,” he said lightheartedly. “But, I’m glad you’re here actually. I was going to come see you-“

“But you should be resting.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I should be resting, whatever. But I needed to talk to you about the other day on the bench.”

“Me first.” 

“No, please let me. If I don’t say this now-“ 

“I’m going first,” she said, cutting him off as she opened the microwave and grabbed a spoon. “I have to, because this was supposed to be a better present but, well, you need it and it’s going to get cold if you don’t eat it now.”

“What’s that?”

“Pizza,” she said so dryly, that he almost believed her. Then she cracked and rolled her eyes. “It’s soup. Well, it’s apology soup. I’ve never really done this before.” 

“Bought soup?”

“Apologized.”

He was kind of stunned as he watched her pour the soup into a bowl and put everything onto a tray. She placed it in front of him, and he barely had time to reach for the spoon.

“Okay, so I’m sorry,” she said quickly, like it really was her first time apologizing. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you and said those horrible things that I didn’t mean. I’m not the type of person to do that. Anymore,” she added.

“No, Lydia, you were right. I was acting like an idiot. I actually have been all week, and that’s because I have to tell you something. See-“

Lydia shook her head defiantly. “You were not being an idiot. The only person who was an idiot that day was the boy I was supposed to meet. And then he turned out to be, well, kind of a coward. So I took it out on you.”

He could feel himself losing his courage, ironically, as soon as she said the word coward. He tried to interrupt her again, but in typical Lydia fashion, that only made her talk louder.

“And now, that same boy who stood me up hasn’t returned my messages in a week. But look at you – I treated you horribly and you still were going to come looking for me and you let me come in and… that just proves that I was right to apologize to you.” 

“No, Lydia, you really weren’t because actually the reason-“ He cut himself off this time by breaking down into a fit of coughs.

When he finally caught his breath, Lydia continued. “Because the truth is, Stiles, I think you’ve become my best friend. I don’t know how that happened, but here I am with apology soup.”

“Lydia, will you please just let me get out what I have to say?” 

“You don’t like the apology soup?” she asked so sadly that he would have bought her one hundred cans of soup just to prove he loved what she did.

“No, no, no. Not at all.” Her face fell even more. “Wait, I mean yes! Yes I love the apology soup.” He reached over to touch her arm. “It’s really sweet. I just don’t think you owe me an apology.” 

“I was mean to you. You got upset and left. What am I missing?”

Those big green eyes willed him to tell her everything. He wanted to, he really, truly did. All of his problems would have gone away if he had just told her right then and there. But with her looking at him like that, he couldn’t do it. He could not – would not – be the reason for her to be sad.

“I just… I know you weren’t in a good mood, and if I had to formally apologize for every time I snapped at someone, the world would run out of soup.”

She looked pleased, and perkily stood up while he ate.

“You know,” she said as she gathered up her purse. “There are three different kinds of the West Nile virus that show up in humans. The first one doesn’t present any symptoms, so that can’t be what this is. The third one only has neurological effects, and you don’t seem to be any more unbalanced than usual.” He laughed at that. She grabbed her coat and walked back over to his bed. “And the second one shows physical symptoms like a fever and sore throat, and it is completely curable.”

He wasn’t sure why she was humoring his lunacy with this explanation. Maybe she just wanted him to relax and feel better. Whatever the reason, it worked; unless that was the medicine she gave him kicking in. 

“Maybe it’s just a cold,” he said, yawning.

She smiled down at him. “Maybe.”

He looked at her bag and her jacket. “Are you leaving? That’s good, I don’t want to get you sick.”

“You won’t,” she said so confidently that he wondered if she was immune to all illness. 

“I’d feel bad, though. Worse, I mean. I feel pretty lousy already. And not just because you got stood up by some jackass. I’m sorry about that.” 

“Why are you sorry for that?”

“Because… because no one should ever upset you or make you sad, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. How’s the cold medicine treating you?”

“I’m tired. What the hell was in that?”

“It was nighttime medicine. No more video games. No more WebMD. No more worrying about some other guy who hurt me. You need to rest.”

“Just…” he started drifting off. His eyes shut. “Just… don’t be mad, okay?”

 

 

 

The next thing he knew, it was much darker in the room, and he was alone. He got up to get his phone from his desk and realized he had been asleep for almost 3 hours, which was nice since he now no longer felt like he was on his deathbed. He also saw that he had a text from Lydia telling him to FaceTime her when he woke up. He squinted his eyes to adjust to the screen’s brightness and dialed not even ten seconds later.

“Good morning,” he said when she picked up. She was laying in her bed reading, but she laid the book on her chest to talk to him. 

“Hey. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t kill you with all the cold medicine. You went out pretty quickly.”

“Well that’s mildly alarming, but I’m feeling better, so thanks.” He grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and lay back down. “Sorry I fell asleep while you were still there. That’s like, super rude, right?”

“No, but the snoring was. You’re just pathetic when you’re sick.”

He smirked proudly. “Oh, Lydia. One could argue that I’m pathetic all the time.”

“Be that as it may, you do sound like you’re feeling better now, so I’ll let you go. I’m sure you have homework to catch up on.”

“No, wait.” He sat up too quickly and tried to refocus his eyes.

“What?”

“Well, I don’t think I was a great friend earlier. You took care of me while I was sick, and I couldn’t even stay away to talk. So now that I’m wide awake, tell me about this overwhelmingly, mind-numbingly stupid guy who stood you up last week.” 

She shrugged. “That’s the thing, he _isn’t_ stupid. He’s amazing, actually. But I think he was scared to meet me. Did I mention that? I’ve never actually seen him in person. We’ve been talking online. I know how that sounds, but-“

“I think it sounds perfectly fine.”

That would have been a good time to tell her, but he couldn’t help but think… What if he didn’t tell her for a little bit longer? Would it really be the worst thing in the world? God knows he could use some help with this, and he knew she liked him too. Whether it was one version or the other, she wanted him to be a part of her life. Was it really that awful to use the situation to his advantage? Maybe learn how to win her heart?

Yes. Yes, it really was awful to manipulate the situation like that. But, then again…

Whatever Lydia emailed him she was really telling Stiles. So if Stiles himself used the information she told the other Stiles to get closer to her, it’s not like he was betraying anyone’s trust. Maybe this was the effect of the cold medicine wearing off. He was confusing himself. All he knew was he couldn’t lose her twice.

“So why do you like this guy?” he heard himself ask. “What’s so great about him?” 

“I like him because we can talk about anything.”

“You mean like fears and interests and school rivalries?” 

He could see the suspicion on her face, but all she said was a hesitant, “Yes. But it’s different with him.”

“Well, if you want my opinion-“

“I don’t,” she interrupted.  
  
He continued like he hadn’t heard her. “- I’m a little weary. I mean, sure it’s easy to sit in front of a screen and type up interesting things because you have more time to think up clever responses, right? You can’t sit in comfortable silence over email.” 

She sat there stubbornly and silently, but after a while he seemed to sway her. She grudgingly asked, “How am I supposed to test that?”

“You could try talking about something boring. If you still want to talk to this guy, even about nothing, that means something important.” 

She mulled it over, and then sarcastically laughed once. “Thanks for the advice, Dr. Phil, but I don’t want nor need dating tips from you.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. We’ll just sit in comfortable silence.”

He reached onto the bedside table to grab a cough drop and from the corner of his eye, he saw her biting back a smile.

 

 

 

 

LITTLEMERMAID: So… the weather today was good, huh? 

SOLOJEDI: Oh, we’re doing small talk now?

LITTLEMERMAID: It’s not small talk! It’s an everyday topic shared between two people who are at ease with one another. I’m too tired to talk about something exciting, so sometimes we’re just going to have to talk about nothing.

SOLOJEDI: Fine. The weather was lovely.

LITTLEMERMAID: Sometimes I wish California’s weather was more reflective of the seasons. You know, like cold winters, rainy springs.

SOLOJEDI: People who live here always say that, but I think if it were actually ever cold or rainy we would, like, spontaneously combust. We are a sunshine people.

LITTLEMERMAID: Did you know that we have the most constant weather? Rarely too hot, never too cold. Sometimes it rains. Sometimes there are clouds. But mostly, we always know what to expect.

SOLOJEDI: Hm. You’d think we’d be bored with that, but somehow it keeps us happy. Kind of like this conversation, right? Are you rolling your eyes at that last sentence?

LITTLEMERMAID: Yes, I am. Such a dork.


	22. Chapter 22

April 11th

 

 

 

SOLOJEDI: Can I ask you something that’s probably too personal and definitely none of my business?

LITTLEMERMAID: You can ask because I’m intrigued. Maybe I’ll answer.

SOLOJEDI: You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, of course. In fact, I’d prefer you didn’t. Seriously. I don’t want to overstep. Like, just tell me to go to hell and we can talk instead about books or traffic or birds or something. I don’t know. 

LITTLEMERMAID: Okay, shut up and ask the damn question.

SOLOJEDI: I remember you mentioned last semester that you had a boyfriend. How is that going?

LITTLEMERMAID: Oh, it’s going much better. We broke up. I haven’t spoken to him in months.

SOLOJEDI: Are you being sarcastic?

LITTLEMERMAID: No, I am genuinely better now without him. He dumped me because I was bringing him down, but I think in the end it was me who was being dragged down time after time. He was always angry with me, so it was like I was constantly walking on eggshells trying to please him. Sometimes I was even scared of him. That’s not the kind of guy I’m looking for. 

SOLOJEDI: What kind of guy are you looking for then?

LITTLEMERMAID: Someone with a good heart. Someone who can make me laugh and is intelligent. That’s really it. Okay, your turn to be put on the spot now. What about you?

SOLOJEDI: I want someone who is honest, can hold a conversation, and isn’t afraid of a challenge. I need to know that when things get tough, she’ll be there.

LITTLEMERMAID: I’d say that’s feasible.

 

 

 

Stiles used to always knock before entering her room, even if it was open. He still knocked if it was shut, incase she was changing or sleeping or had company, but now they had gotten into the habit of leaving it propped open with a shoe box so that he could just come and go as he pleased. 

So Lydia barely even reacted when he came bounding in like a maniac; it wasn’t _that_ out of the ordinary that he was freaking out over something miniscule. But when she heard how out of breath he was as he doubled over gasping for air, she calmly closed out of the scientific journal she had been reading online and turned to him. 

“What’s with you?”

“Don’t….get up…..I’m….fine……” He managed to be sarcastic even with no air in his lungs.

“Losing interest,” she warned. 

“Saw……Coach….Finstock……In the courtyard…….He was…..yelling…..about……the deadline.”

“So you literally ran away from him?”

He found Kira’s desk chair and collapsed onto it. “Yeah. I did.”

“I’m sure that was very subtle.”

He leaned his head back and rolled his eyes. “It’s better than having to look him in the eye and say we don’t have any answers.”

“So did you come here to work on this thing until it’s done?”

“I did not. I actually think we should take the day off. Maybe not thinking about it for a few hours will help clear our heads, you know? Recharge our thinking caps.” 

“Well then… why did you come here?”

“Because running isn’t really my thing, and your dorm was closer than mine.”

“So we’re not thinking about the case, you’re not leaving…” Lydia was confused. She didn’t just hang out with guys. Where was the fun in that? I mean, sure, she had been spending time with Stiles all semester but that was more like work. They were solving a case. Why would a guy want to spend time with a girl when there was nothing in it for him and it wasn’t required for a grade?

“So, yeah…. Do you want to hang out?” Stiles asked slowly, probably wondering why the hell she had gone shell-shocked. 

“Yeah,” Lydia said simply.

They ordered a pizza, and an hour later Stiles lay on the floor eating it while Lydia read facts to him from the lids of their Snapple drinks.

“Hm. This one says that over 1 million Earths would fit inside the Sun. Boring.”

“What?” he exclaimed, sitting upright. “That’s amazing!”

Lydia shrugged. “It’s factual.”

“You don’t think it’s even just a little bit cool that the Earth, like, the biggest thing… in the world…” 

“You’re so good with words…”

“Could fit over _one million times_ inside of something?”

“Any science textbook would say the same thing. This is an imposter hyperbole. It creates the illusion that something is amazing when it’s really just repeating what is already known compared to-“

“Okay, okay, I get it. The sun is super small, and you are a genius.” He lay back down on the floor, and Lydia looked at another cap.

“See, this one is actually a fun fact because there are no equations or theorems proving it. It just is.”

“What is it? Science is cool?” Stiles grumbled sarcastically.

“Happy people live longer.”

She leaned forward to peak over the edge of her bed and look at Stiles, who grew unusually quiet as he mulled the fact over. She could see the wheels in his head moving, could tell he was thinking hard by the way he licked his lower lip and squinted off into the distance. 

“Are you trying to decide if it’s worth it to try to prove that this fact is not any more fun than the fact about the sun?”

“You know me too well, Martin. Fine, I will not try to disprove a subjective truth just this once. Let’s move on to something happier, shall we?”

“Sure. That way we’ll live longer.”

He tossed a pillow up so it hit her in the head, and she burst into laughter, which was contagious because he started cracking up on the floor below her. At least they were both self-aware at how impossible they could be.

Minutes later as they both started to catch their breath, Stiles asked her a random question. She was getting used to his scattered thoughts and too-quick-for-logic brain.

“If you could be doing anything right now, what would it be? Like, your dream man walks in that door right now and is like, hey, me and you, right now, let’s go to your favorite place. Where would you go?” 

“You’re asking me what my ideal first date is? That’s easy. Ice-skating.”

“I didn’t know you were an ice-skater.”

“I’m not. I just think it would be fun.” She hadn’t taken a lesson in years, but she wasn’t about to mention that to Stiles. He’d likely pull her out the door to the nearby rink and encourage her to do tricks or something.

“So where would you go ice skate?” he asked, crumbling up a napkin and trying to get it into the trash bin on the other side of the dorm. He missed.

“What do you mean? Nowhere. Here.”

“Lydia! It’s your dream date scenario! You don’t want to go ice-skating at the freaking North Pole or something? Or, like, Antarctica?”

“Are you this argumentative with everyone you come across?” she asked him distractedly as she checked her emails on her phone. “My dream date scenario is at the ice rink in Beacon Hills, where my dad taught me how to ice skate when I was a little girl. Then I went there again for my birthday party when I was 10 when I got my favorite purple dress from my cousin. Then I went there on my first ever double date with my best friend and two nice boys. It’s just a happy place to me, so if I had to go there with the perfect person, it would only add to the happy memories. Is that a suitable answer for you, Stilinski?”

He was staring at her dumbfounded, and then cleared his throat. “Okay, yes, as far as explanations go that happens to be a very good one.”

“So what about you?” she asked, tossing her phone onto the mattress beside her. “What’s your perfect date?”

He sat up excitedly, folding his legs into a pretzel and leaning forward with his arms waving around as he spoke. “Right so there’s this place where I grew up that has this cliff, and it has this perfect little pathway where you can drive your car right up to the edge. I mean, there’s like a fence and all that, but from your car it looks like, I don’t know, like you’re floating right there on the edge. And at night it’s dark enough to see all the stars. So I’d just want to drive up there and look at the sky and eat junk food.”

“Let’s go,” Lydia blurted out. She hopped off the bed and grabbed her purse.

“W-what?” Stiles faltered as he stood up. “You want me to take you on…" 

“No,” Lydia interrupted, not even letting him finish his question. “I don’t go on dates with boys who are wearing flannel.” He looked down at himself and mumbled something sarcastic while Lydia checked her phone. “Come on, Jackson never took me anywhere cool, and if we leave now we’ll get there at the perfect time.”

Stiles just started nodding enthusiastically and patting his pockets to find his keys. She liked having someone around who would go wherever she wanted, even if it was late on a school night and she was adamant that there was no chance of anything even resembling a date happening.

Stiles went to pull his car around while Lydia stopped at the vending machine and grabbed two sodas and a variety of chips and candy. He had the car waiting out front when she got outside.

 

The drive went by fairly quickly. They surprisingly agreed on the same radio station and easily found topics to discuss besides the newspaper. He told her how he ended up owning a light blue 1980 jeep, and Lydia told him about how she would drive any distance in the world but would rather “literally die” than take a plane anywhere. 

Eventually Stiles pulled the car off the highway onto a dirt road that would have been impossible to find if you hadn’t been there before. 

“By the way,” he said, navigating the old car through the dark and narrow path with ease. “What’s wrong with flannel?”

“Flannel is perfectly fine, Stiles,” Lydia sighed. She wanted to stop him from overreacting to a small comment, but she feared it was too late.

“I know it’s not the most sophisticated fashion choice, but one could argue that going casual is a sign of confidence.”

“One could argue that casual on a date could be mistaken for laziness,” Lydia said as she gazed out the window, before looking over at him and adding, “If one was in the mood to argue.”

“Laziness?” He laughed once. “Oh, Lydia. Wait until you see this dream date set up. While other guys make a measly dinner reservation and maybe purchase some movie tickets, Stiles Stilinski presents his date-“ he paused for dramatic effect as he put the car in park, “-With the whole universe.” 

“It’s not a-“ Lydia started to correct him, but her voice trailed off as the beauty of the cliff caught her attention.

The car was pulled up to the edge, and if she didn’t know any better, Lydia would actually think they were in outer space. The sounds of the forest floated away and the sky’s silence enveloped her. Well, at least until Stiles disrupted it. 

“I know it’s not. You can even take your email boy here if you want. And I’ll bring Leia Organa. That’s-“

“Princess Leia, I know,” she said absently while she continued staring out at the sky. 

Stiles turned the car off. “You know, I tend to be kind of…” he waved his arms around crazily. She understood. “Like worrying about every little thing and obsessing over tiny details that hold no real significance.”

“I’ve noticed,” she said, opening a bag of chips and offering him some. He took a handful. 

“But when I come out here, everything just kind of…” he waved his hands again, but this time it was slower and in a straight line. Again, she understood. “Like, take for example, post-graduation plans. Sometimes I panic about where me, you, Scott and Kira will end up. But occasionally, like when I’m out here, it’s more like a dull worry.”

“Stiles, we’re freshman.”

“Soon-to-be sophomores, which is close to being juniors, which is basically seniors.”

She propped her feet up on the dashboard and looked over at him, sighing heavily. “I’ll tell you where we’ll all end up. Kira and I will get a fabulous apartment in the city. You and Scott will get a terrible apartment that you love near a dive bar. Scott will get a job doing something… just, _good_ ; he’ll be helping people. Kira will do something sweet, like teach or coach gymnastics or something.”

“And you’ll discover the cure for the common cold.”

She laughed and then thought for a moment. “And you’ll… do some kind of investigative work. You’ll find the Zodiac Killer or figure out what the Loch Ness Monster is.” 

He did something unusual then and simply looked down and smiled more to himself than to her. It was quick, like he didn’t want anyone to see. Then he lifted his chin up proudly and told her, “Well, I have several leads on both of those cases already.” 

Lydia smiled and leaned her head back. They sat in silence for a moment.

“You rattled those predictions off pretty fast,” Stiles told her.

“I’m a planner. I knew in high school Kira and I would be roommates at our college. I knew what my major would be, even if I’m still figuring out what I want to do with it. I knew what time would work best for my classes. When I was 15 I had a college check list.” 

Stiles looked at her the way he always did when she said something ridiculous, but he didn’t seem surprised. “When I was 15 I went to school with shoes that didn’t even match. Literally. I didn’t notice until 3rd period, but by that point I figured I may as well just stick it out.”

She laughed. “Weren’t there rules about dress code? My school tried to teach us to be prepared for adulthood. We had to dress nice. Did you get in trouble?”

“I don’t remember. Probably. I got in trouble a lot. Not in like, a cool smoking-in-the-parking-lot kind of way. More like I talked too much during class and wrote off-topic essays in economics. What about you? What were you like in high school?”

Lydia sat up straight and proud. “I was the prom queen.” 

Again, he didn’t look surprised, but Lydia swore she heard some admiration in his tone as he told her, “Of course you were.”

They toasted their sodas together and quietly looked out at the vast sky in front of them for the rest of the night.


	23. Chapter 23

April 16th

 

SOLOJEDI: If I had something to tell you that would make you not very happy, would you want me to tell you? Or would you rather be blissfully unaware.

LITTLEMERMAID: I would want you to tell me.

SOLOJEDI: I don’t think you’ll like me very much after I do.

LITTLEMERMAID: I don’t think that’s possible.

SOLOJEDI: I’m going back and forth because in some ways, it feels selfish of me to tell you this awful thing because it would put me out of my misery, but put you in yours.

LITTLEMERMAID: You don’t have to tell me then.

SOLOJEDI: Do you think I should?

LITTLEMERMAID: Listen, I trust you. Isn’t that funny? I don’t even know your name but I trust you. Sorry, I’m feeling very Zen right now. My mom booked me this fabulous spa day. So exactly how critical is this situation right now?

SOLOJEDI: I’ll get back to you.

 

 

 

He tossed his phone on his bed, thinking it was just downright rude to ruin someone’s good mood after her mother so thoughtfully gifted her with a day of relaxation.

“No,” Stiles said out loud to himself as he paced in his empty dorm. “I am going to tell her. It’s happening today,” He tapped his hands against each other the way he did when he was nervous. “This cannot go on any longer. It doesn’t matter that she might literally punch me in the face once she knows. I need to do this. Stiles. Go. Right now. Go talk to-“

His phone rang mid-pep talk. He checked the screen and picked up before it even got to the second ring. He was already grabbing his backpack.

“Lydia, hey, can I come over?”

“Stiles, can you come over?” she asked at the same time.

There was something in her voice that had him already out the door, no questions asked.

 

He ran to her dorm building, which was probably about a quarter of a mile away from his, and found her standing in the parking lot by herself. She was under a streetlight and had a green coat wrapped tightly around herself.

“Lydia! Lydia?” he yelled as he approached her. “Lydia? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” she said quietly. “That? Over there? Not okay.”

Stiles looked over and saw the statue, which was vandalized again. This time it looked like someone had dumped red paint all over it. Well, he hoped it was paint. 

“I’m gonna call campus security,” he told her, taking his phone out.

“I already did.”

“You called security before you called me?” 

“I’m supposed to call you first when I see a group of guys breaking the law?”

“Yes!”

She gave him a look, but he was about to argue his point anyway until something she said repeated in his head. 

“Wait a minute, you said you _saw_ the group of guys doing that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, and before you ask, no I didn’t get a good look-“

He paid no mind to the eye roll. He had only one focus. “Did they see you?”

“What?”

“The group of guys, the ones who have been jumping students all year, did they see you standing here?” 

“No,” she said simply.

He looked around, suddenly sick at the thought of her out here by herself with a group of douchebags only about fifty feet away. He let out a shaky breath to maybe convince her that he wasn’t freaking out and then in turn stop _her_ from freaking out.  
  
“Alright. Let’s… let’s get inside, okay?” He put his hand on the top of her back and led her inside. When they got to her dorm, she opened the door all the way and sat on her bed.

“You didn’t have to follow me home.” 

“I just wanted to make sure you got in okay.” 

“It was 2 flights of stairs. And security,” she pointed to the orange lights flashing on the wall from the little carts they road around campus in, “Is already here.”

“I know the inner workings of law enforcement establishments, all right? They're not nearly as reliable as people think.”  
  
“Well, you also didn't have to follow me into my room.”  
  
“Well, I uh, yeah, I don't have an answer for that.” He put down her purse, which he had been carrying for her for some unknown reason. _That_ he definitely didn’t have to do. “I can leave.” 

“No, it’s fi- Stiles, what do you mean you know the inner workings of law enforcement establishments?”  
  
“My dad’s a cop. Have I not mentioned that?” Lydia stood up in a rush to say something, but he stopped her before she could even get started. “I know what you’re going to say. But we can’t go to my dad with all this. Well, not yet anyway.” 

“What, he only accepts cases if they’re finished?”

“He only accepts cases that have started. We don’t exactly have anything solid here.”

She didn’t fall for that. “You went to him every time someone gave you a dirty look and now you’re the boy who cried wolf.”

He squinted and bit at his thumb nail. “That’s a possibility-“

“Stiles!”

“Okay, look. I may have gone to him with a few cases before, all right? But I was onto something every time. I knew for a fact my chemistry teacher in high school was accepting bribes from the theater kids and that is how they were all managing to ace their labs and no one listened to me. And do you know what happened 2 months ago?” Lydia crossed her arms, waiting. He took that to mean she was incredibly interested. “He got a DUI.”

“How is that connected?”

“Lydia, come on! Drunk driving? The guy was clearly a thug; is classroom corruption really that far fetched?”

She stared at him for a long time, her mouth a straight, tense line. “I think we’re getting off topic,” she finally said. “We’re bringing this to your dad tomorrow. That means we’re solving this tonight.”

She started sliding their board out, a woman on a mission. He was amazed by her. He had to tell her now. He had to ruin everything.

“Hey, before we go all Law and Order on their asses, can we talk first? There’s this thing, it’s so stupid probably, but before we figure this out-“

She put her hands on her hips, giving him the time to say exactly what he needed to say. He wanted to be mad at her for not being impatient, for not rushing him to get on with it so they could focus on saving the world. But she didn’t give him a reason not to tell her. So he scrambled to give himself one. 

“Uh… I uh, I stole something.”

“What?”

He took his backpack off quickly and unzipped it too roughly. “Security tapes. Um, I took them from the janitor’s closet last week. Did you know they keep them in there?” He laughed nervously.

“We’ll return them,” she said simply. “It’s not stealing if we bring them back when we’re done, right?”

She looked up at him so hopefully, like she had just solved all of the world’s problems. He knew he was gone. He stood no chance.

He dropped his hands to his sides and accepted defeat. “Right.”

He would tell her tomorrow. Definitely tomorrow.

 

 

 

Hours later, he was sitting at her desk, rubbing his stiff neck and gulping down the rest of a water bottle as he watched security tapes. He’d tried to make them coffee but Lydia unplugged the Keurig before he could even reach for a mug. (“Did you know that, big picture-wise, water is actually better at waking up your nervous system than caffeinated beverages? I’m doing one of my final papers on it.”)

Lydia was sitting cross-legged on the floor examining hundreds of papers and pictures. She was rubbing her temples as she tried to find out which males were at every game where there was an incident.

Sometimes Stiles would open his mouth to start a distracting story and Lydia would say “No” before he could get a word out.

Sometimes Stiles would turn around to see Lydia taking selfies on her phone and he’d yell “Lydia!” until she put it away.

It wasn’t so bad, really. But Stiles hadn’t taken his Adderall since this morning and he was slowly losing his mind as he searched for anyone matching the description Danny had given them at the hospital: brown hair, blue eyes, big build. He was sitting there hitting pause, then zoom, then play, then zoom out, then pause, then zoom, then play over and over and ov- 

A pattern.

He must have sat up too quickly or maybe held his breath too long because Lydia realized something was happening and was at his side immediately.

“See that guy in the background?”

“Brown hair,” she pointed out.

“I’ve seen him before,” he said as he started flipping through the other tapes. He found one from a basketball game in January and popped it into Lydia’s laptop. He skipped ahead until he saw that the game was ending and the parking lot was filling up. “There.” He tapped the corner of the screen. 

Lydia leaned in, her hair falling onto his shoulder. He briefly wondered how one girl could smell like the ocean and flowers and cupcakes all at the same time. Then she was gone.

“I’ve got 8 names from the ticket sales. Based on age and gender, it has to be one of them.” She stood behind him and sifted through the papers once more. “It’s not the most sophisticated method of research but maybe if we try looking them up on-“ She looked up to see that he was already logging in to his account. “-Facebook.”

“Give me a name.”

The first four profiles they went to were dead ends. They approached it like a puzzle, trying to match the visual pieces that Stiles had found on the tapes with the descriptive facts that Lydia had found in the records. They studied each boy’s features closely before agreeing it wasn’t him.

“Okay, lucky number five. Who’s next?”

“Peter Hale.”

Stiles barely even let the picture finish loading. “We got him.”

His fingers quickly hit the print button and Peter’s profile picture shot out of the printer. Lydia reached for it and held it up to the screen as Stiles made the paused security tape full screen.

They had him, and they both knew it.

Stiles clumsily shot up from his chair, knocking over his 3 empty water bottles in the process.

“We’ve gotta go,” he said as he scrambled to pick them all up. He grabbed the laptop off the desk and stuffed it into his backpack. Then he rushed over to Lydia and went to rip the paper from her hands but she pulled it back. 

“Go where, exactly? Do you know what time it is?”

He took his phone out of his pocket. Three in the morning. Obviously the station was open, but his dad was sound asleep at home. And Lydia looked about ready to collapse. And Stiles suddenly couldn’t stop yawning, as if finding out the time made his brain allow the exhaustion to be felt.

“Oh, damn it. I didn’t even realize.”

“I know, me neither. Look, campus security scared those guys off for now. I don’t think anything is going to happen between now and sunrise. We’ll set our alarms for seven, and be at the station by the time your dad’s shift starts.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah, good plan. We have enough information now for him to take this seriously.”

Lydia stretched and groggily walked over to her bed. “Now that we have one of their identities, I bet it’ll be easy for the cops to ask around and figure out who the other two in the group are…”

She kept talking, but Stiles’ mind was elsewhere. He saw a street light flicker outside, and he walked over to the window. He felt wide awake now, remembering that a few hours ago Lydia had been scared and alone just outside, that these guys had been so close to her. Too close.

“Are you sure you’re okay being here by yourself? I mean, you witnessed a crime tonight, right? You sure you don’t need, like, a bodyguard outside your door?”

“Are you sure _you’re_ okay with me being here by myself?” He was almost impressed that she still managed to add some attitude to it even though she was so tired. 

He played with the strings on his hoodie to avoid looking at her. “I just… Maybe we should stay together tonight, you know? If something happens before morning, we’ll get a campus alert, and we’ll already be able to tell them who did it.”

Lydia lay down on her bed, glaring up at the ceiling. “Stiles, it _is_ morning.”

She turned her head to look at him. He darted his eyes back out the window before finding her eyes again, but something had changed now. Her expression was softer. After a moment, she sighed with resignation and started to sit up. “Fine.”

He wondered if maybe she thought he was scared to walk home across campus alone, and if she was just appeasing him for his own sake. He wasn’t going to question it. Instead he flopped down on Kira’s bed, which was eternally empty as she was usually with Scott.

“Don’t get too comfy,” she yawned. “I only let boyfriends sleep over. We’re just going to relax for a bit. We can nap later.”

He rolled over and threw his arm off the bed, rummaging through his backpack.

“No problem. We can just lay here and watch a movie for a few hours.”

He grunted as he struggled to find the DVD but refused to exert the amount of energy necessary to stand up and bend over and neatly look through his bag. Finally, he felt the rectangular box in his hand and rolled back over onto the bed as graceless as before. He heard Lydia snort at him.

He crawled to the end of Kira’s bed, reached for the TV, and put the disc into the slot. After he grabbed the remote, he flung himself back down, the mattress springs squeaking underneath him as he bounced on top of the covers.

Lydia didn’t realize what Stiles planned on them watching until the menu for _The Avengers_ roared to life on the screen and Stiles was pressing play.

“You carry that with you in your schoolbag?”

“Yeah, in case of emergencies,” he said, hands behind his head, humming along to the opening music. “Have you seen the other movies or do you want me to give you a quick recap?”

“Quick recap.”

“Okay, so back in 1962, Stan Lee introduced Thor into a comic book series, which actually began as more of a…” 

The last time he looked over at her, Lydia appeared to have accidentally become interested in the superhero movie. She was more awake than before, definitely more so than him. Stiles was having trouble keeping his eyes open, as much as he loved this movie that he had seen probably, literally, 500 times.

Breaking his own rule to never not do as Lydia Martin says, he eventually fell asleep. It wasn’t until the next morning when Lydia analyzed the movie’s ending with him on their drive to the station that he realized she had broken her own rule as well.

She let him sleep over last night.


	24. Chapter 24

April 22nd

 

 

 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that it’s your birthday,” Lydia said, turning off the radio while he drove them to the sheriff station.

“It’s not my birthday.”

“It’s your birthday party tonight, which means your birthday was recently, which means you were lying when you said tonight was just pizza with friends.”

“It _is_ just pizza with friends,” he said, reaching over to grab the birthday card she had almost sat on when she got in his jeep. He crumbled it up and tossed it behind him into the backseat.

“It’s a birthday party.”

He reached up and turned the radio on, but Lydia quickly turned it back off, staring at him, waiting for him to explain.

He held strong under her gaze for six full seconds before sighing. “ _Fine_. Maybe it is a gathering of friends curiously close to one’s date of birth which may have prompted the gath-“

“A birthday party,” she mumbled loud enough for him to hear.

He took one hand off the wheel like he was about to delve into an elaborate debate, but then he seemed to think better of it and instead just clenched his fist before dropping it onto his lap.

“If you knew it was my birthday you wouldn’t have let me spend the day thinking about psychopaths attacking students.”

“We would’ve spent the day doing whatever you wanted.”

“You would’ve tried to get me a birthday cake.”

“I prefer pie. 

He stopped the car too fast at a stop sign. “Birthday _pie_?”

“It’s less calories.” 

“By that logic, a bag of hair would be even more enticing.”

She turned to glare at him, and he glared right back, still at the stop sign.

“Fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared out the window. “If you didn’t want to tell me, all you had to say was-“

“My mom, okay? It’s… I don’t like to celebrate my birthday because of my mom. The candles and the decorations and that freaking song, all of it just makes me miss her.” At some point, he took his foot off the brake and continued driving, but Lydia barely noticed. “When I was like, 10 years old, Scott decided we would celebrate my birthday, without actually celebrating it, you know? Just hang out, not make it about anything special. He’s so infuriatingly selfless. So every year, the weekend after my birthday, we hang out for no reason. It was cool when I was a little kid, but now it seems like maybe I just need to get over it, you know? I mean, we’re in college now. So that means this year you and Kira made the guest list to the saddest, stupidest excuse for a Saturday night ever.” He laughed once and started drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, like maybe if he went back to normal, Lydia wouldn’t notice the weight of his words.

She wasn’t used to hearing him like this, calm and quiet, like the beach in the winter. It was familiar, it looked the same, but you were seeing a different side of it. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to embrace the cold or run for shelter. Maybe she just wanted the sun to come back, to steady the waves. 

“Remember when we went to Eichen House? You told me you didn’t have to be a little kid to be scared. Well you don’t have to be a little kid to be sad either.” 

The drumming on the wheel stopped.

She thought back to her own birthdays. Her parents waited ten years too long to divorce, so her household was usually tense. Her mom would give her money, her dad would ask her how much her mom gave her so that he could give her more.

“You’re lucky to have Scott,” she added quietly, mostly because it was true, but also partly because she was jealous of his sad, stupid excuse for Saturday nights.

He looked over at her, his expression something she couldnt read. Then it disappeard and he smirked and licked his lower lip. “I know. He’s a great husband,” he said, focusing back on the road.

Lydia snorted and put the radio back on. “You’re also lucky to have twenty other people on campus who want to come hang out with you,” she said casually. “That was before they even knew about the keg.” 

“ _Twenty_?” Stiles groaned. Full on, kid-finding-out-he-has-to-take-out-the-garbage groaned. Then, in an instant, as if he was just now hearing what she had said, he sat up straight. “Keg? Suddenly, it’s Christmas. No, like, better than Christmas. This is like the day that I almost got tickets to Comic Con.” He looked at her, holding a finger up. “Yes, that’s right, _almost._ It sold out really fast, but even getting close to going was somehow still pretty great. Is that weird? Hearing it out loud just now… Jesus, I think my go-to happy memory is actually kind of crappy.” He shook his head quickly, bringing the current conversation back to his focus. “Man, the last time me and Scott tried to get a keg we were like, 15, right? Total babies. But I knew my dad had just busted this party the seniors at my school were throwing, so I…”

He went into a story about how he tried to follow his dad to the party but Scott had sneezed while they were hiding behind a tree and gotten them caught. His dad dragged him by the ear in front of everyone at the party, and they both got grounded for a month.

And just like that, the sun was back.

 

 

 

 

“Hey, I’m here to see my dad.”

“The Sheriff?” 

“Parrish, I’ve been coming here since before you even entered the police academy. You _know_ who my dad is.”

Lydia put her hand on Stiles’ arm to settle him and stepped up to the counter. “Is the Sheriff in?”

Parrish smiled at her then pressed a button on the landline phone next to his computer. Stiles narrowed his eyes and looked like he was about to make a smartass remark, but he was interrupted when an office door opened. Stiles put his hand on the top of Lydia’s back and led them into the office. His dad was re-taking the seat behind the desk.

“You’ve gotta fire that guy,” he said, closing the door behind them.

 His dad closed his eyes and started rubbing his temples. “I can’t fire someone just because you don’t like them, Stiles.”

 “I’m telling you, Dad. This is just like with my high school teach-“

The Sheriff picked his head up and looked about ready to kick Stiles out when he noticed Lydia standing there. He got to his feet immediately.

“Well, I’m incredibly sorry about that. It seems in my son’s confusion that he’s a member of the police force’s human resources department, he forgot to mention that he brought company.”

Lydia reached her hand out and gave him a huge smile. She had only met Stiles’ dad once before, and that was at his wedding. She was sure that day had been a blur for him so she thought she should politely refresh his memory. 

“I’m Lydia Martin. I was at your wedding.”

“Right, of course. You and Kira,” he said, clearly remembering. Lydia immediately liked that about him; he was sincere. 

Stiles went to grab a piece of candy from a jar on the Sheriff’s desk, but his dad slapped his hand away, then looked at Lydia. “I know he’s in college, but Stiles on sugar is-“

“Disastrous,” she finished for him, earning a look of betrayal from Stiles. 

The Sheriff laughed and sat down, gesturing for the two of them to take a seat on the couch against the wall.

“So to what do I owe-“ 

Stiles excitedly held up the binder he was carrying that contained all the evidence they had gathered. Lydia had tried to organize it neatly, but Stiles had insisted on flipping through it about a hundred times, wrinkling the pages as he did. Now they stuck out all over the place, red markings and yarn – yes, _yarn_ (“It groups things together! If we tie up this pile with green, it like, symbolizes that we already solved that section!”) made it look like the findings of a mad scientist. 

“…oh, no,” his Dad grumbled. Lydia realized Stiles wasn’t being dramatic when he said he brought cases to his dad often.

“Hear us out, Dad! We have evidence and interviews and yarn-“

“Enough with the yarn,” Lydia whispered.

“It’s essential,” he whispered back.

“To making a blanket, maybe.”

“To categorizing the clues.”

“Clues that were already-“

“Okay, let me see the damned thing,” Stiles’ dad said, interrupting their argument, thankfully. They were both too stubborn to ever end it themselves.

Stiles jumped up and placed the binder in front of his dad as if it contained the secrets to the lost empire of Atlantis.

His dad took a deep breath and started leafing through the pages. Stiles stood before him and waited to hear the verdict while he bit at his thumbnail. Lydia remained on the couch, silently bouncing her knee and clenching her hands together in her lap.

After what seemed like hours, he closed the binder and sat back in his chair. His expression was hard to read.

“I know that look,” Stiles said, turning to Lydia. “He’s either ecstatic or pissed off.”

She rolled her eyes at him and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling at his cluelessness. She didn’t want him to think she was over their disagreement about the yarn. 

“I’m… impressed.”

“That’s a new one,” Stiles said.

“Blame her,” the Sheriff said, nodding his head towards Lydia. Stiles looked at her with amazement in his eyes. “The cases you give to me are usually a cluttered mess. Respectable evidence but jumbled together beyond the point of clarity.”

“He was the real detective here,” she told his dad. “He knew exactly where to look for leads.” 

“Well, yeah, but you knew how to get me there,” Stiles said turning to her. “You kept me rooted in the right details to follow. If I’m the eyes that find the leads, you’re the brains that makes them mean something.”

Her mind went blank. She was never great at accepting compliments that weren’t about her looks. Finally, all she could do was look away and, again, try to hide her smile. This time she was sure she had failed, though.

“Well, like I said. I’m impressed.” He stood up and walked around his desk. Lydia got to her feet so that the three of them were standing in a circle. “A lot of times schools don’t want to acknowledge a problem because that means they’ve failed in someway – especially when its own students are the ones bringing the issues to them. Police bringing it to their attention? That’s a different story.”

Stiles wasn’t even able to focus on that good news for two seconds. “Remember though, the victim from the hospital said it was three guys. We only got the one. Is that gonna be enough-“ 

“Son,” his dad put his hand on Stiles’ shoulder, “I can take it from here. You kids did excellent work. You make a good team.”

It was an innocent comment. Stiles grinned and looked at the floor, and his dad asked how the Jeep’s transmission was sounding. 

Lydia, however, needed some air. Or maybe a drink. Or maybe a splash of cold water on her face. Distance, was what she needed. Away from these two nice people who were so comfortable welcoming her into their group.

Damn Stiles and his incessant need to treat her like a normal human being.

She didn’t want to think about why she was having a strong reaction to being paired so casually with Stiles, or why the fact that he didn’t freak out like he would have 6 months ago made her question her entire existence.

All she wanted to do was run.

She was pulled from her brief melodramatic hysteria by some commotion in the station. She didn’t know exactly what had happened, but the Sheriff brushed past her and Stiles in a way that made it seem like whatever it was was serious.

Everything that happened next was in slow motion. Stiles grabbed her arm to duck behind the couch with him. A woman screamed and fell just outside the door. Lydia fought Stiles’ pull, waiting to see if someone would help the woman. 

When she realized that no one had seen the injured woman, that no hero was coming to help, time switched to fast forward.

Lydia freed her arm from Stiles. Somewhere far away in the back of her mind, she registered his voice yelling, “Lydia, don’t!” But she was already ripping the door open.

Then she almost got to the woman in need. She almost missed the piece of glass that went flying from the criminal jumping through it, attempting to escape. A few paces to the left, maybe if she had run faster or slower, if the woman had screamed one second earlier, she almost wouldn’t have gotten stabbed in the side.

Almost.

The next thing she was aware of was the pain. Sheer, blinding pain cutting into her side as she hit the ground. When she looked back on the memory, she could hear glass shattering, she saw a man being tackled, and she smelled blood.

But at the moment, all she was aware of was the ache in her side as she pressed her hand to hold a wound closed that she didn’t even know she had. Survival instincts have a funny way of kicking in.

Parrish was kneeling beside her next, a first aid kit at his side. The Sheriff ran out of his office, yelling frantically into a walkie-talkie for back up. She wondered if she was dying.

“I think she’s going to pass out!” Parrish yelled.

“Lydia, stay awake. You have to stay with us, okay?” the Sheriff told her.

She tried to focus her eyes on him, but they were too heavy. Someone – Parrish, judging by the fact that it came from her right side where he was kneeling – tapped her cheek lightly.

Lydia opened her eyes, but this time they looked beyond the two men beside her.

She saw Stiles stumbling out of his dad’s office. He gripped the doorframe for balance; his eyes wide as he looked from where her hands were gripping her side back to her face. He looked like he was physically hurt.

“Stiles, come on, why don’t you go get your car? We’ll drive her over to the hospital,” she heard the Sheriff say. It was easier for her to focus now.

Stiles didn’t move. Someone rushed past him to hand Parrish a towel for her side, but he only broke eye contact with her for a second.

She felt bad for him, which was an amusing thought she realized later. She just wanted him to know that everything would be fine, that he didn’t need to worry. It took all her strength, but she smiled at him, hoping that would help. 

“Stiles, she’s all right. Get the car.”

There was definitely blood. Lydia could see it forming on the towel. She remembered that stuff like that made Stiles queasy. You couldn’t tell from looking at him. His face was almost expressionless, his mouth hanging open, his eyes unblinking. She wondered if he was in shock.

“Stiles, I’m fine,” she said through clenched teeth, still trying to smile.

He looked at her for a long moment after that, making sure she was absolutely positive he could leave her. Then he seemed to snap out of it, looking at his dad and nodding slightly, before feeling his pockets for his keys and running out of the station. 

Parrish picked her up and carried her outside just as Stiles pulled up. The Sheriff opened the passenger side door as Parrish got her situated in the back. She heard some hushed conversation outside the car, and then she saw Stiles tossing the keys to his dad. There was movement behind her as he got in the backseat, letting her lean on him as he wrapped his arms around her. She felt better instantly as Parrish shut the door for them and the Sheriff sped off.

She involuntarily winced and clutched the bandage Parrish had used to cover her wound. Stiles held her tighter.

“We're almost there. Lydia, just hold on, okay?”

She nodded and just tried to concentrate on him and the reassuring words he was repeating as they approached the hospital. 

A bunch of doctors rushed over to the car as they pulled up outside of the emergency room. It seemed as if one second she was sitting in the backseat and the next she was laying on a stretcher with an IV in her arm after being stitched up. Someone in scrubs told her it was pain medication, which she began to feel instantly. Then the stretcher was pushed against a wall in the hallway while a room was being prepared for her to get admitted for observation. At least, that’s what she thought was happening. The pain medication was really doing its job.

She rolled her head to the side and they started to close on their own accord until she caught a glimpse of flannel. 

“Stiles?”

He was at her side in a second. “Yeah, yeah I’m here. Are you okay? Do you need something?”

“Stiles… Go.”

“Oh, um… I was thinking more like a blanket or maybe a cup of water.”

“Your party. It’s your birthday thing. You have to go.” 

“What? I’m not leaving you-“

“I feel bad, Stiles. You have all those people waiting for you and Scott planned it all out perfectly. I won’t be able to sleep knowing I ruined your night.”

“Lydia.” He was shaking his head at her, adamantly refusing.

So she said the only things she knew would get to him. “Please? Do it for me, okay?”

She needed him to see that she wouldn’t be able to rest knowing that he was just outside in the waiting room worrying about her. 

After a few moments she knew her tactic had worked when he finally nodded and slowly backed away. Then she was able to let her eyes close, thinking about him being happy with his friends and his keg while she was far, far away.

 

 

 

The next time Lydia opened her eyes she was in a private room. She had been changed into a hospital gown and her side no longer ached. The curtains to the window weren’t shut all the way so she could see it was dark outside now, meaning it had been hours. Somewhere out in the hallway she heard her mom talking to someone about antibiotics.

She pressed a button next to the bed and it moved into a relaxed seated position. Just as she looked around for something to drink, the door opened.

Again, it was the flannel that caught her eye first. Then the cup of water in his hand.

“You… you came back?”

“Kind of,” Stiles said casually as he placed the drink onto her bedside tray. “I never left.”

 Lydia felt it everywhere in her body, from her veins to her heart to her toes. A “before” and an “after” was created. One minute everything was the same, the next, life as she knew it has been altered forever.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah another stydia college alternate universe! I used to hate AUs but then I wondered about what would happen if their story unfolded the same way under different circumstances? So that got me to writing this. It will be about 20-25 chapters, and I'll try to update as soon as possible. Let me know what you think!


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